


The Truth, Part 8

by Seasider



Series: The Truth [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mean Guy, Shopping, Stylish Luke Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24800167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider
Summary: Luke at seventeen in the Rebel Alliance, getting in trouble, having fun, and having some problems coping with Dad Vader and his own Darkness.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Friends
Series: The Truth [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775602
Comments: 32
Kudos: 76





	1. Vader Makes Luke’s Life More Difficult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke admires his Vader’s skill with a lightsaber. His fellow pilots aren’t as impressed. And he studies the sad information about his father’s suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lightsaber scene came from the end of Rogue One, of course.  
> Corresponds to FFN 71 (only 7 more chapters to post to catch up, then I can FINALLY write Father-Son time together! I’m way too excited... they’re going to have a great time!)  
> And YAY!!!! to having all the story on Ao3!

“Now we _are_ going for a walk.” Zev grabbed his arm as Luke tried to enter the mess hall. “Come on.”

Oh no. “But I’m hungry!” The excuse didn’t work.

“We won't be long.” Zev dragged him to the far side of the hangar, toward the edge of the base. “I want you to stop looking at me like I’m one of those monsters you blew up in the jungle.”

“I don’t!”

“You do. Lu— Oz.” The pilot released him and rubbed the back of his own neck. “You remind me of myself,” he said bluntly. “I was a spicer. Heavy-duty. And because of my addiction, things did not end well for someone I cared about. You could easily cause that sort of damage too, with or without spice. You’re very... volatile.”

“Oh.” Chastised, he looked down. Volatile? That didn’t sound so bad.

“Sometimes I see parts of me in you— and they’re traits I didn't like in myself. Still don’t. But you’re smarter than I was at your age, and you’re already choosing the right path. Mostly.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. Although technically he could because he was Vader’s son and had more struggles against Darkness than Zev would ever know.

“So I’m not hitting on you, Luke. But I care a lot about you and I don’t want life to go bad for you. If I’m sometimes a little-heavy handed, I’m just trying to stop you from making mistakes.”

“Oh,” he said again and scruffed his toes in the dirt. “So… are you saying that your feelings are… paternal?”

“I’m not that old!” But Senesca winked at him. “Fraternal… mostly.”

“Oh.” That seemed to be his best neutral response. Then, because he could never leave well enough alone: “So you don’t think I’m cute?”

Zev sent his gaze upward for a moment, then it resettled on Luke. “You’re cute. You’re adorable. If you were covered with fur, you would be a plushie toy. Children would come from klicks away just to hug you. How’s that?”

He bit his lip and had to laugh. “Fine. Can we go to dinner now?”

“Yeah, but—“ Zev’s face turned serious. “I told Hobbie to back off with the jokes. He’s a good guy, but he needs to be reminded when he goes too far. Like you do,” he added. “Think about what I’ve said.”

“Okay.” Well, now he felt weird. He’d thought Zev was attracted to him, which was both disturbing and a little flattering, but it turned out that Zev thought of him as his plushie brother. So much for believing he knew what people were thinking. Obviously he wasn’t as good at it as he pretended to be. But now he had a clue that Zev had hurt someone he loved, and he supposed that was as much as he needed to know. Anything more wasn’t his business until Zev chose to confide in him.

On the other hand, Zev said his feelings were only mostly fraternal. Luke glanced speculatively at the other pilot.

Chuckling, Senesca shoved him toward the mess hall, and Luke relaxed at the touch. It wasn’t going to be weird at all. In fact—

“He’s got a _girlfriend_ and she _kissed_ him! They’re getting _married!”_ came a loud sing-song from Hobbie as they entered the large room. The chant was picked up by a few others at neighboring tables.

“Oh, krit,” he muttered as Zev grinned. “The princess is not my girlfriend.” He ignored the calls as he lined up to fill up his tray. When he and Zev had their food and were settled at the table, Luke continued, “It was a peck on the cheek after I thanked her for the birthday cake. That’s all. So knock it off!”

“Mm.” Hobbie didn’t look subdued at all. “I had a piece of cake, too.”

“So did I,” Wedge said, leading the way for the rest of the Red pilots to add their claims.

“If you want to try to kiss her,” Luke smiled, refusing to rise to the bait, “whatever happens is on you.”

Zev gave him an approving smile. “I hear we finally got a new holovid set,” he said, and the subject changed immediately.

**OooOoo**

Pajama bottoms and black wrap boots. Well, okay, he’d expected more but told himself not to be greedy. Still, he shook out the wrapping paper just to be sure there was no jewelry.

The new holoplayer had resulted in a few disagreements— space opera, docudrama, sports or Empire-slanted news— and gave Luke the private time he needed to examine the datacard his dad sent. He tried a few obvious passwords involving father-son teasing names. Not only did they not work, but the card didn’t even respond to his tapping.

There was, however, a tap on his door. “Yes?”

Narra stuck his head in and saw the datapad. “Anything related to the Alliance on it?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t figured out the password yet. I’ll let you know.”

“All right. Did you use the Force today?”

Great. He was going to be cross-examined every day from now on. “A little, in saber class. It was just me and Kodra.”

The commander nodded. He hesitated, and Luke was certain he was going to ask about Leia and The Kiss, but evidently he changed his mind and simply left.

Luke went back to his task. Maybe he was going at it the wrong way. If it didn’t accept words or numbers, was there such a thing as a Force Lock? Or was he supposed to ask his father?

He tried on his own first. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on seeing the card and willing it to… well, _open._ That didn’t work. Maybe it had an invisible password. But he couldn’t see one. He gave up and called, _Dad!_ and the datacard opened.

Okay, the Force _and_ a nickname! But he wondered if he was supposed to go running to Narra to say he used the Force again. Nah. He scrolled eagerly.

_The impossibility of your dreams._

Oh, great. His dad was in a negative mood. Well, dreams weren’t impossible, they could happen. He settled back on the bed, leaning against the wall, and began to read. The first title was _Life Support Enhancement._ Puzzled, he quickly scanned a few screens ahead and realized, his heart twisting in his chest, this was describing his dad’s suit.

The impossibility of your dreams? Hell, no. If it had been constructed once, it could be built again.

He began to read.

**OooOoo**

One hour later he was staring at the datapad. It had taken a long time to read through the information, because he had to stop every few moments to steady himself. Obviously he’d known that the suit was life support, and his father had told him he couldn’t remove the helmet except in pressurized air, but this was far more— and far worse— than he’d expected. No wonder his father was angry and sad and despairing. Maybe it _was_ hopeless.

He reread all of it, trying to maintain an emotional distance the second time around, but he couldn’t. Each time he read that _needles_ went into his dad’s head and face so the mask could interface with him, he stopped. He couldn’t understand what that meant— interface with what? His brain? His nerves? His physical senses? Who would invent something like that? It seemed like a torture device. And the sensors, the monitoring, the electrical impulses to his muscles to help him move, the connections to his nerve endings… _nerve endings._ Oh, no… the pain must be agonizing.

There were things that hadn’t registered with him during that first read, but now he shuddered and wiped away tears. His dad’s body had been rebuilt, inside and out. Sure, he had a torso, but there was so little organic left inside. Everything… _everything_ that comprised a human being had been damaged or destroyed or just replaced as “improvements on the original equipment”. Lungs, intestines, vertebrae— terrible injuries to eyes, ears, throat, his skin. Why no synth-skin? Why was his dad still in pain? Why weren’t his prosthetic limbs better, why were they painful, why hadn’t they been upgraded? Burns, savage, excruciating burns through layers of skin… and Kenobi was responsible. If he were alive, Luke would kill him, because nothing Kenobi did later in his life erased what he had done to Anakin Skywalker, not even saving Luke.

How anyone could go in an instant from being a healthy young human to becoming a dying, tortured remnant of a body— and then go through the horrific procedure of being “repaired”— he couldn’t begin to imagine it. How his dad had gotten through all this, he didn’t know because his father was alone then. He must have been terrified. And yet the Dark Lord still had a heart, at least in the emotional meaning of the word. At least for his son.

There was some good info. The suit protected him from just about everything. Killing or damaging Vader was nearly impossible. Unless his life support system was hacked or shorted out… if he didn’t follow a maintenance schedule, if his energy cells weren’t replaced in time, if if if….

All he wanted to do was sit and cry all night, but of _course_ someone knocked on his door. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? “What?”

Wedge poked his head in. “Hey, there’s some kind of sword-fighting match on the holo. Thought you might want to watch.”

No. Yes. Maybe a break would be good. “Yeah, thanks.” He tucked the datapad away and sent a brief virtual hug to his father— at least, he hoped that’s what he was doing. He stood, struggling to appear calm and normal.

“I had good news,” Wedge told him, evidently doing his best to put away their disagreements. “Doc did a blood test and I’m okay— it must have been just a virus and it’s gone now. So I don’t need the tests.”

“Good. Yeah, that’s great news.” How did Narra swing that? Well, who knew how and why officers did what they did? The galaxy consisted of giant conspiracies invented by officials and emperors.

His usual sofa corner had been left for him. They were such creatures of habit, and he felt grateful for it. Hell, he felt grateful that he was in one piece— well, two pieces, if he counted his hand separately— after what his dad had gone through. And still went through every minute of every day. Even the mercy of sleep was an impossibility.

“So did the princess really kiss you just because of the cake?”

“Porkins, she’s a girl,” he replied wearily. “I don’t know why they do what they do.” Girls and officers and emperors. They had a lot in common. Sometimes their actions were inexplicable.

 _Love you, Dad,_ he sent, then settled in to pretend he cared about the Galactic Sword Mastery Competition.

 _Kodra could have beaten them all. Maybe I could, too. Not yet. But with the Force, yeah. Or would that be cheating?_ Luke sighed.

“Hey, there’s a Vader segment listed.” Janson looked over. “Want to watch it?”

“Sure. Is it in the sword fighting vids?”

“No, it’s in… oh, it’s on News Underground in the old news category.” Wes shrugged. “Still, it’s not like he’s changed any.”

“I want to watch Corellia: Nightlife Uncensored,” Porkins offered.

“No matter our chronological ages,” Commander Narra said as he poured himself a caf, “I think we’re all too young to see that.”

“Anyway, the Vader bit is only two minutes, I’m requesting that one.” Janson poked a few screens on the remote and found it. The screen went black.

For a second, all was still. Then Luke heard the sound of his father’s respirator. He smiled slightly and— The red lightsaber sprang into life, and the Dark Lord was revealed in the shadows. Moving strongly, purposefully, as if unencumbered by armor and durasteel and limbs that weren’t his own.

He squinted, trying to make out details but the video was grainy. A security tape, he realized, from onboard a vessel. There were men in Alliance gear running toward the camera and vanishing behind it. Blaster shots came from somewhere, and his father batted them easily— twisting his wrist around over and over— how could he see them… sense them, even with the Force? How could he be so fast?

Men who hadn’t been quick enough were flung left and right by a single closed black fist. Another man was thrown and pinned on the ceiling by an invisible force… until the lightsaber sliced him through the middle, a seeming afterthought as Vader strode down the corridor. So powerful… Luke felt a quickening of his pulse, though he knew he should be put off by the deaths. But… this was his father in battle mode and he was… _magnificent!_

In the background, voices screamed _help us, help us!_ then Vader disappeared from the camera’s view and all that could be heard were screams and the unmistakable hum of a swinging lightsaber.

The screen went blank.

“Animal,” Hobbie growled, followed by a string of curses. “How do you like your hero now, Wes? Still want to meet that piece of filth?”

Janson didn’t reply, but Luke bristled. “He’s not an animal! Why would you say that? It’s war— they were soldiers and they shot first!”

“He _massacred_ them!”

“So do _we_ every time we shoot down a TIE… or a Death Star.”

Wes cleared his throat. “I think what Hobbie means is—“

“You don’t have to explain what I mean,” Klivian snapped. “What I mean is pretty clear— Vader is scum. He’s not even human, he’s a cyborg without a conscience! He’s some kind of— of— sorcerer!”

“Of _course_ he’s human! He uses the Force— he was born with it! Just like me!” Luke stood and gestured at the holo. “You can see he’s a man wearing armor— like the stormtroopers.”

“Like krit! Stormtrooper armor can’t stand up against a blaster. Vader just hits the shots away!”

“So what? I have a lightsaber too! And someday maybe I can use it as well as he does!” Frustrated, Luke snatched the remote from Janson, hitting replay. “I want to see the beginning again.”

“No!” Hobbie and Porkins exclaimed together.

“You’re getting a little overwrought,” Zev said. “Settle down. I think that was the Profundity.”

Overwrought? He caught Zev’s eye and remembered ‘volatile’. Luke hesitated, resentment warring with caution. “I never heard of that.”

“Vader captured Princess Leia after she escaped the ship… remember now?”

“I didn’t know the name of it.” Captured Leia, and his dad traded him for her. Except Luke had refused to leave Dantooine, blew up the Death Star with the plans his father had hidden in his useless lightsaber… and ruined his father’s plot to kill Palpatine. Why? Why did his dad have to kill all those people just before he would’ve been free to... take over the Imperial Throne and rule the galaxy with his iron fist. Oh.

_Show no weakness. Ever._

“I still want to see how he manipulated the lightsaber,” he said stubbornly, and hit the play button before anyone could protest. But he let his finger hover over ‘pause’ because he didn’t need to see the rest.

He paused it almost immediately. “Look. One hand, he’s only using _one_ hand.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Who cares how many hands he uses?” Hobbie demanded.

“Because I have a lightsaber! And they’re hard to use! I want to see how he does it. It’s not like there’s anybody else who can show me.” Gingerly, he advanced a few frames. Yeah, only his dad’s wrist was moving, his arm not at all at first. He blocked blaster fire one after another, then—

“That’s enough,” Narra said.

“I know it’s enough!” Luke stopped the video, tossed the remote back to a subdued Janson, and rushed to his room, retrieving the lightsaber from under his bed. He returned to the main room and held it out. “Don’t worry,” he said in response to the alarm that ran through the others. “I just want to try those moves.”

He didn’t ignite the blade as he spun it with his left wrist. He felt clumsy and didn’t think he would be fast enough to block blaster bolts this way. He slowed, wondering if his organic limb wasn’t as limber as the other, so he switched to his right hand. That seemed easier, but twinges of pain where the prosthetic attached to flesh advised him to be cautious.

“Luke—“ the commander began.

“Can I hold it?” Zev interrupted.

“Well… okay. Just don’t— I mean, be careful of the activator here.”

Senesca eyed the saber carefully before closing his fingers around it. “It’s heavy, but not bad.” He turned his wrist a few times. “Doesn’t seem too hard.”

 _Oh yeah?_ Luke took Zev’s arm to guide him away from the others— and the furniture. “Now… turn it on. But don’t move it or we’ll have a hole somewhere we don’t want one. If you drop it, it will turn off— but keep your feet out of the way.”

“I don’t know if we want to arm Senesca!” Wedge exclaimed, and Janson nodded an agreement.

Zev held the hilt away as if he thought it might explode. But he didn’t hesitate, and the laser sprang to life. It dipped violently, and Zev grabbed it in a two-handed grip. “Holy— How do you balance this thing? Wait— I get what you mean. It’s heavy in my hands, but there’s a damn blade sticking way out there—“

“You’d better turn if off,” Luke said uneasily.

“Yeah, please,” Janson seconded, and Zev obeyed, handing the hilt back to Luke.

“I can see how it would be hard to control with one hand. You have to compensate for the length.”

“Well, Vader’s had a lot of practice chopping up people,” Hobbie muttered.

Though his fury mounted, Luke controlled it. “I’ll have to ask Kodra to show me. I can sorta do it with the practice sabers, but the hilts aren’t as weighty.” He kept trying the wrist movement, then flicked on the saber, running through some fast parries and thrusts. He was showing off, but so what? They needed to see that he could almost do what his dad did.

“Luke, you have a training room where you can practice. You’re not to use it in the barracks. Put it back in your room.”

Great, another rule. He deactivated the saber and didn’t reply to Narra, but held the hilt in both hands, studying his workmanship.

“Nice to see that one of us got something positive out of the video, not just seeing a wholesale slaughter.” Hobbie slouched and glared at him.

“It’s war! And it was self-defense.” His grip tightened around the saber.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I need a beer,” Wedge said lightly.

“No,” Narra replied, and Wedge grinned to show he hadn’t been serious.

“Luke? Maybe you want to reconsider your hero worship,” Zev suggested.

Being protective didn’t mean censoring. “I don’t think he’s so bad,” he replied defensively. “It wasn’t like it was civilians. They shot first.” It wasn’t like the other video… it wasn’t like screaming children, fleeing men and women decapitated and disemboweled.

“So would I,” Hobbie mumbled, “if I saw that _thing_ coming at me.”

Janson didn’t join in his justification of Vader’s actions. “Hey, _Dancing Among the Stars_ is on. I’ve heard that’s pretty good.”

“Unless Vader is one of the guest dancers. He’d slay the competition.” Porkins chuckled at his own joke, then looked abashed. “Sorry.”

“You have an hour until Lights Out.” Narra spared a quick glance at Luke. “And I hope it’s a quiet hour. Without lightsabers.”

Fine! He put away the saber but decided not to stay in his room because all that was there was the horrific description of his dad’s life in the suit. He needed to see his father to talk about it. _Sooner rather than later, Dad,_ he sent.

He returned to his place on the sofa, silently marveling at the subdued silence. And then he wondered at his ability to put aside his father’s violence. Like father, like son. He was capable of it, too. And had done it. The only difference between him and Vader was…. What?

They were both certain that what they wanted was right. How could what they wanted be so different? What had changed their paths?

His father, born a slave, raised by a loving mother, taken from her by a Jedi who trained him for over a decade and then mutilated him.

Himself, raised by two semi-loving relatives, terrified of his father, turning into a delinquent before being trained by Vader for a too-short time. And then trained by a very critical Jedi who wanted him to kill his father.

He and Vader only had one factor common to both their lives: Jedi.

It was good the Jedi were gone. And maybe one day the Sith would be gone, too, with Palpatine destroyed by his dad and him. And the Sith Lord, destroyed by the return of Anakin Skywalker.

_The impossibility of your dreams._


	2. Short Flight to Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is pleased that he hasn’t been punished for his... Force lapses. Maybe he can push things just a little further? Wes Janson is a willing participant in his latest brilliant idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to FFN 72 (only 6 more chapters to post to catch up, then I can FINALLY write Father-Son time together! I’m way too excited... they’re going to have a great time!)  
> And YAY!!!! to having all the story on Ao3!  
> Yes, I’m doing a countdown because I’m SO GLAD updating is almost over!

There were disadvantages to his early morning training routine— namely, that by the time he had showered and changed, he was late to the mess hall and usually the other pilots had already left. Like today.

He crammed down a quick breakfast and hurried to the hangar. It felt urgent that he get there, but he didn’t know why until he arrived and saw frantic activity.

“What’s going on?” he asked no one in particular and no one answered him.

“Oz! Help over here!”

He followed the voice. It was Wedge moving crates and a Green Squad pilot supervising the loading of a transport.

“What’s going on?” Luke repeated, as he directed the astromech droid’s positioning and then turned to help with packing.

“Green is bugging out,” Wedge said tightly. “They’re going to cover a different base. There you go,” he added to the Greenie. “Good flying.”

“Where—? What? Why?” Luke followed Wedge to the rear of the hangar to join the rest of Red Squad who watched morosely as Green fighters began departing, the supply transport prepared to follow closely behind. “What’s going on?” he yelled over the roar of engines.

Hobbie put his hands on his hips and glared at Commander Narra. “That should be _us!_ Why are we _here?_ We’re _fighter pilots!”_

“And damn good ones,” Wedge added fiercely.

“Green Squad is good, too, you know that. Ground force bases are being spread too thin. They need protection.” Narra looked serious. “Gold may be going soon too, then it will just be Red to protect this base.”

 _“Protect it?_ All we do are supply runs and patrols.” Zev was a picture of frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. “We never see action!”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Luke offered hesitantly. “Why would you want an attack? At least we’re safe.”

The others ignored him, but Porkins said: “If you’re afraid of getting hurt, why are you here?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” _It’s you, all of you, that I don’t want hurt. Killed. I want to keep my family safe. Like I couldn’t keep Biggs safe. Like the way I can’t keep my father safe from his demons._

“Oz is right in a way.” Narra‘s mouth thinned. “The longer we can keep hidden from the Empire, the more hope there is for the Rebellion.”

Luke blinked. “You mean that’s why they’re moving fighters away from here? If other bases get hit, there’ll still be fighters left somewhere?”

“Are the other bases expecting to see more action?” Wedge challenged. “Are we being treated as the last hope? Hiding on a planet the Empire never thinks to search? C’mon! There’s something more going on here.”

Krit. It was because of _him_ , wasn’t it? He was here, Vader paid the Alliance to keep him while he turned the Imperial fleet’s attention elsewhere. Maybe… Luke felt ill at the thought that maybe the other bases were especially vulnerable to attack now. There had been only a few minor conflicts that he’d heard about, but maybe the Emperor was impatient for military victories from Vader, not just confrontations against planetary governments. Maybe Palpatine was angry at his Dark Lord for his perceived inaction.

And he wondered at Vader’s intentions. Was he deliberately not attacking Alliance bases? How far was his father willing to go to overthrow Palpatine? Luke desperately wanted to talk with his dad about all this.

“The generals are splitting up too. Dodonna and Willard going to different sites.”

That was a definite improvement.

“Then who’s in charge here?” Zev asked.

“Carlist Rieekan. Perhaps you’ve heard the name,” Narra added drily.

Well, yeah. One of the main driving forces behind the Alliance. Luke just hoped he’d be more reasonable than Dodonna.

“Also, the Security Chief is now Major Derlin. Former Chief Nikran has been removed.” Their squad leader paused. “It is what it is, so quit bellyaching and get to work. Two supply runs today. Senesca and Klivian, now. Loneozner and Janson, as soon as they return but no later than 1400. Porkins and Antilles, start moving our fighters into new positions and coordinate with Gold Leader. Loneozner— a moment.”

He followed Narra to the back. “Do you have to call me Loneozner?” he grumbled. “I hate that name.”

“You’re the one who chose it.” The commander lowered his voice. “Nikran confessed to stealing the drugs from Boss and planting them in your quarters.” Before Luke could ask why, Narra added, “The Worlae boys are his nephews. He recruited them to come here.”

He almost asked ‘who?’ but thankfully kept his mouth closed. Tadeo and his brother. “Oh.” Whoever told him— his father, Yoda, Owen?— that there were always unintended consequences to his actions was right. Of course, that applied to the brothers too. They deserved what had happened to them… didn’t they? He had a queasy feeling that he was becoming more and more like his father in ways he didn’t want to be.

“Okay,” he murmured when it looked like Narra was waiting. “Uh… I’ll go work on…. I’ll go help the guys. Thanks.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the commander as he left and saw the man looking at him. He had an uncomfortable feeling that Narra had expected him to say something else, but he had no idea what. ‘Sorry’ didn’t seem warranted since he hadn’t done anything except execute a spy. And the drug thing— well, this time it was Nikran who was guilty, not him. He was completely innocent.

 _Something is wrong with your reasoning,_ he remembered one of the pilots saying to him awhile back. Yeah. But what exactly was wrong? He joined Janson who was readying his X to move it.

“Hey, you and me later! I’ll let you fly.”

“Thanks,” he said distractedly to Wes. He looked across the hangar again at Commander Narra who was speaking with Gold Leader. But Narra must have felt his gaze because he turned his head and met Luke’s eyes for a few moments before returning to his conversation.

“What’s going on?”

“It was Nikran who planted the drugs.” He drew a long breath, mildly surprised that his voice was shaking. “His… the spy that I… caught… was his nephew. Tadeo, too. And he….”

Janson squatted and pretended to check some bolts on one of the struts, gesturing Luke down so they could whisper. “Why do you feel bad about that? If you hadn’t caught him, we’d be telling stories and toasting the memory of Wedge.”

“I guess. But it's my fault he’s dead.” _That_ was what he felt guilty about? — it was ridiculous, the guy was a spy!

“Luke, you couldn’t help that he killed himself rather than face the consequences. And always remember you saved Wedge and whoever else he would have sabotaged.”

“Yeah, but….” Janson didn’t know it wasn’t suicide; it was murder by Force. “I need to talk to the commander. I’ll be right back.”

“No rush. We’re not going anywhere yet.”

He stood at a ‘respectful distance’ as his father would demand, and waited until Narra had wrapped up his talk with Gold Leader.

“Yes, Oz?”

“What happened to Chief Nikran? Did he know about what… the spy was going to do?” He clasped his hands behind his back, fingers digging into his palms. “And Tadeo, what happened to him?”

“Our interrogation did not show that Nikran knew of the plot. He’s been transferred to another base to serve a sentence for theft, drug possession, and false accusation.” Narra looked past him at the nearly empty hangar. “His career in Security is over, but he’s indicated that he wants to return as a foot soldier after his term ends. Tadeo also chose to remain with the Alliance— again, at another base. And now—“

Here it was, the _one more thing_. Luke stifled a sigh of resignation. “Wait! Sir… did Biggs Darklighter’s family get to safety?”

Narra tilted his head and his gaze seemed warmer. “Yes, they did. They’re relocated.”

“Okay.” He was relieved but disappointed in himself that it had taken so long to ask.

“Now I’m coming with you to CC to meet General Rieekan.”

Krit. “Do I have—”

“Don’t say another word. Might as well get it over with.”

Krit. Sithspit. Krat. Krif. Banthaspit. Poodoo. Still… he was relieved nothing worse had happened to Tadeo. Other than losing his brother, losing his mech job, and his uncle in the brig. But why did he feel so _guilty?_ Wes was right— he’d captured a spy and prevented deaths of pilots.

Which, of course, could have been accomplished without killing the guy. He wished there was someone who could help him clarify his uncertainties about his actions. He had a feeling his father wasn’t that person.

Evidently it wasn’t Narra either because he said: “Stop dawdling.”

 _I’m not!_ But he walked faster. “My legs are shorter than yours,” he defended.

“Take more steps.”

That made him smile, and he used the Force— just a _tiny_ bit— to extend his senses and discover that… ugh, Dodonna and Willard and Boss were there with the new guy. Why why why? “Why do they always gang up on me?”

The commander stopped. “Are you whining?”

“No, just _asking!_ Krit, can’t a guy _ask—_ Uh. Sorry, sir. Thanks for coming with me.”

“I was ordered to.” Narra’s lips twitched. “But I would have anyway.”

“I know.” Luke was smiling again as the commander opened the door, but quickly swept the expression away as they entered.

He’d never seen the small room so crowded with people. Officers and enlisted and clerks— “If you’ll excuse us….” Willard raised his voice when he saw them come in. “Command staff only.”

The others pushed past, a few giving Luke curious looks. One young man grimaced sympathetically, and Luke figured they assumed he was in trouble. But he adopted the military-at-ease posture and waited with what he hoped appeared to be patience.

“This is him,” Dodonna said tiredly. “Loneozner… Skywalker… Vader’s….” and added something under his breath that sounded more like ‘spawn’ than ‘son’.

Luke frowned. How rude! He looked expectantly at the uniformed stranger who was slouching a little. Narra stiffened beside him, and that was the only thing that kept him from blurting _Hi!_

“I’m Carlist Rieekan,” the older man said and extended his hand.

For a moment Luke was too surprised to react, then he shook it. “Hello, Ca— General. Sir. Pleased to meet you.” The grey eyes studied him neutrally.

“We should get Major Derlin in here,” Dodonna said heavily. “I’m sure they’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

Luke bit his lip and felt answering annoyance flood over Commander Narra.

“Any particularly pressing concerns?” Rieekan asked Narra in an off-handed way that Luke knew was not off-handed at all.

He waited for Narra to say: _Well, he uses the Force to choke and kill, defends Vader every chance he gets, and somehow causes my squad members to squabble, but other than that he’s really fun to have around. Just watch out for the lightsaber._

“No, sir.”

“There was an altercation with another pilot recently. Anything to it?”

“Just teenage hormones, sir,” Boss interjected with a side wink at Narra.

“Well, hopefully the passage of years will cure that particular ailment.”

Luke smiled slightly. He was going to like the new general. At least they were getting off on the right foot. All he had to do was keep it that way.

How hard could that be?

“You’re dismissed, gentlemen. Send the staff back in.”

“Jan,” he heard Rieekan mutter from the other side of the door when he thought they were out of hearing distance, “he’s so _young._ He can’t possibly be as—”

Luke paused.

“Don’t let that innocent face fool you,” Dodonna snapped.

Narra gave him a shove. “Stop eavesdropping! Get back to work.”

He shrugged and smiled at his commander. “Yessir!”

**OooOoo**

“That didn’t take as long as we expected.”

“It helped that we got an early start.” Luke maneuvered the small transport ship out of the dock. “And the commander thought we wouldn’t be back until 1700, so shall we stop somewhere for lunch?”

Janson laughed. “Sure. Maybe a fly-through joint?”

“I’m serious. You know… Corellia is practically next door. Just a short jump away.”

“Oh no. We are _not_ deviating off course. Don’t even think it.”

“Awesome shopping there,” Luke reminded. “Food. We could get something for the guys to make them feel better. Maybe some clothes. I have an _account,_ you know.”

He could feel Wes’s eyes on him. “Is there anything in it?”

“Not a clue, but I can check when we get there.” He cast a quick glance over. 

Janson was silent.

“What d’you say?” Luke rechecked the hyperspace coordinates. “Just one push of that little button and….”

“We should get these supplies back to base.”

“We _will_. A slight detour won’t change anything. We can get some games and clothes and lots of snacks. Just push that—”

Janson pushed it, then sat back. “I can’t believe I did that. We are _so_ getting in trouble for this.”

“Why? We’re not doing anything awful.” Luke grinned. “And don’t worry, if we get in trouble, I’ll take the blame. I’ll tell them it was my idea.”

“It _is_ your idea!”

“True. Hey, we’re rebels and we’re rebelling against a pre-programmed route, no big deal. We’ll be back before they know we went. And when they see what we’ve brought, it will be fine. You know my motto: ask forgiveness, not permission.”

“I think you’re a bad influence on me.”

 _“Please!_ You got _drunk_ the other night! You’re already bad.”

Wes didn’t answer. Luke looked at him again. “Did you really get stood up?”

“Yes,” he said shortly.

Touchy. “Well, whoever stood you up was a fool.”

Wes grunted. They both stared at the monotony of hyper.

“You know,” Janson said, “you can’t change anyone.”

What was that about? “You said that when I said I wanted to change my father.”

“And I’m right.”

“Of course you are,” Luke soothed.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m _not!_ Stars… why are people always pissed off with me? I’m trying to be sympathetic.”

“People aren’t mad at you. I mean, I’m not anyway.” Wes shifted restlessly in the copilot seat. “I’m just saying… never expect to change anyone. Because no one will change just because you want them to.”

“Well,” Luke said carefully, hoping he didn’t make matters worse, “I guess someone would have to _want_ to change before you could change them.”

Wes pursed his lips and made a rude noise.

Okay, then. Luke checked the chron to see how much longer they had to go.

“I mean,” Janson said, “I’m twenty-six freaking years old, how long am I expected to wait for someone to decide?”

Seriously, was Wes asking _him_ for romantic advice? Or wasn’t he supposed to answer? Or wasn’t it even about romance? “Um… how long have you been waiting?”

“Years. _Years!”_ Janson drummed his fingers on his knee. “Are we almost there?”

Seven hells. “No, about another twenty minutes.” Twenty very long minutes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about _what?”_

Okay, maybe not. “So… what do you think we should buy?”

“I don’t care. Whatever you want, it’s your money.” Wes subsided for a moment, then: “I have my own credits. Maybe I should buy a gift.”

Luke stifled a sigh. “That would be nice.”

“You think so?”

Apparently he was good at this advice stuff. “Yes! But not an expensive one. Just a gesture, a thinking-of-you gift.” His enthusiasm picked up. Maybe he could get something for his dad. “Like… flowers or candy… lingerie? Frozen nerf steaks? Maybe some assorted jams? Or a gift certificate to a spa? Or a bottle of—”

“You’re babbling,” Wes said. He was silent for a few seconds. “But thanks for listening.”

“Anytime,” Luke replied, not really lying. “I wish I could fix things for you. It’s just hard to fix something when you don’t know what someone is talking about.”

Janson snorted. “Look in the mirror, kid.” He closed his eyes. “Wake me when we’re there.”

If he could, he would have banged his head against the controls a few times. Wasn’t it enough that he had to deal with Darth Vader? Why did other people have to be so difficult?

Oh, well. _Dad? Do I still have credits in my account? I’m going shopping._

So they were taking a side trip, big deal. Like he always said, what could go wrong?

...Although if past experiences were indicators, apparently quite a lot. But not this time. No, this time would be fine. Just a short shopping excursion. No problems.

Luke sighed.


	3. Shopping Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure crack. Dedicated to all us Social Distancers who can’t work and can’t shop and have no money to shop even when the stores open. Besides, who wouldn’t want to shop with the Dark Lord’s platinum unlimited line of credit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to FFN 73 (only 5 more chapters to post to catch up, then I can FINALLY write Father-Son time together! I’m way too excited... they’re going to have a great time!)  
> And YAY!!!! to having all the story on Ao3!  
> Yes, I’m doing a countdown because I’m SO GLAD updating is almost over!

“First off,” Luke said as he studied Janson critically, “we can’t go out dressed like twins. There must be other clothes on board.” Grey fatigues were simply not acceptable for Coronet City.

“There’s usually foul weather gear. I’ll check.”

He clicked his tongue in disgust. Foul weather gear. _Really!_ He pulled off his jacket and tied it around his waist. There was no mirror, but he was quite sure that the tank showed off his nicely muscled arms quite well. Now he just needed—

“I found a few wraps,” Wes said, “and they— Oh.” He stared.

“Do what I did. Get rid of that jacket, too boring.” He snatched the blue plaid scarf and wrapped it around his head and shoulders. “You take this darker one…. What, you don’t wear a tank under your jacket? You can’t shop with your nipples showing, that’s not respectable. Here. Take the long one.”

“Nothing is wrong with my nipples,” Wes muttered. But he took the deep red blanket and wrapped it around his torso, tossing both ends over his shoulders. “How’s that?”

“Better.” Why wasn’t this ship furnished with a mirror? “How about me?”

“Lose the jacket. But, uh... don’t you think you’re a little too… hot?”

“Huh? No, it’s not warm at all.” The other pilot raised an eyebrow and Luke clued in. “Oh. Well… thanks. I guess between the two of us, we can distract just about everyone.”

“Yeah.” Wes hesitated. “Are you sure the ship will be safe? Maybe we should—”

“Of _course_ it will be safe! Who’d steal a piece of junk like this? Anyway,” he added as they walked down the ramp, “it’s locked.”

Janson cast a dubious look backward as Luke closed it. “I suppose. But what if—”

“Have faith, my friend! And _look_ at where we are!”

Outside the central shopping district docking bay was the awesome sight of endless storefronts. Glittering window displays, flashing signs, elegantly dressed beings. Drifting fragrances of offworld perfumes, flags fluttering from upper stories, multiple languages mixed with Basic. 

“Wow.” Wes stood still and took it all in.

“Here,” Luke said, dragging him into the docking bay’s tourist shop.

“Are you kidding? This is junk!”

“Shades,” Luke hissed. “Trust me, we need shades. And a mirror.” He tried on several pairs of dark lenses— round, octagonal, square— “Ooh, these!” Embedded deep within the blue frames were tiny flecks of gold. “Perfect. And the red ones for you.”

A sigh came from his friend. “Should we buy snacks here too?”

“Don’t be silly, this is poor quality. We just need shades.” Luke grinned. “I hope you have enough credits in case my account is empty.”

 _“Empty!_ You said—”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Hi!” he said to the clerk, leaning into the retina scan, then pressing two fingers against the screen. “These two shades, and I want to check my balance.”

The Twi’ smiled at him and cooed, “You have no balance, sir.”

“What? That’s impossible!”

“I mean,” she continued, sending him a wink, “you have a platinum unlimited line of credit.”

Janson muttered something under his breath.

“Thank you,” Luke said happily, and they exited to the street. “Put on your glasses.”

“It’s not even sunny!”

“Trust me.” He grabbed Wes’s arm and led him along, stopping to look in a boutique window. “Nope.” They went another block. “Not this one either,” Luke stated positively, but across the street he saw the discreet initials of a famous designer above hand-carved double doors. “Here.”

“We can’t go in there dressed like this!”

“Trust me,” he repeated, and glided into the store like he was royalty. His feet sunk into plush carpet and he wanted to yank off his boots.

A young Corellian male approached him. He had dark hair and eyes and reminded Luke absolutely not at all of the smuggler Han. “May I… help you?” It looked like he added mentally: _back out to the street._

“Indeed.” Luke lowered the shades slightly and peered at the other. He did Sultry Flirt and smiled. “What is your name, good fellow?”

“Rialtan.” He was only a few years older than Luke. He was dressed impeccably in a worksuit of solid black pants and an ivory jacket and was adorned with beginning of a tentative smile.

“Rialtan….” Luke lowered his voice. “As you can see, my _friend_ and I are… _incognito_ today, and we’re _desperate_ to avoid the press— they make our lives a living hell. But we need daywear— newest style, next season’s runway line if that’s… within your… _purview.”_ Yes, that was the word Commander Narra had introduced him to.

“I… well… of course,” Rialtan floundered. “But….”

“I understand. Let me enter my account.” Luke repeated his authorization on their tucked away scanner, then curled his fingers around the sales clerk's forearm. “One can never be too careful.”

Janson cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Luke’s hand.

“Oh, sorry, darling.” Luke released Rialtan and tried to appear chastised.

The clerk checked the account information and cleared his throat. “Of course, sir! If you gentlebeings will come into the private showroom, this way….”

They followed, Luke sending a stern look to Wes who was trying not to chuckle. “Marvelous. And I need something for a dozen friends, too. We cosplay as pilots. Cold weather gear. Maybe ponchos.”

“Cold weather?” Janson murmured.

Luke shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

They spent a wonderful two hours, though it seemed like everything Luke tried was black or dark blue. Well, that would please his father. Wes, on the other hand, though he’d always preferred blue, had found a new love for deep red.

“You both have such trim figures!” Rialtan enthused. “Everything looks wonderful on you. Perfect model sizes, you barely even need alterations.”

“Yes, we’ll have that done later,” Luke answered absently as he and Janson stood in the mirrored room, admiring themselves. He felt almost too conservative in the ebony high-necked tunic that had a deep vee trimmed with intricate ivory braid. “I need this in white, too,” he decided.

Janson, on the other hand, was stunning in maroon velvet. “You look amazing,” Luke told him. _No one will stand you up when you look like that,_ he thought but decided not to say in case he’d misread Janson’s predicament.

He watched the young clerk run his hand down a rejected violet velvet robe. “That would look good on you.”

Rialtan frowned. “Yeah, well… at least I can try it on when the boss isn’t around.”

“Add it to my purchases,” Luke said and saw the flash of disappointment on the other’s face. “Now, I need something for my dad so he doesn’t kill me when he gets this bill. Maybe a cape.”

“Ah. Follow me to our outerwear room.”

“Outerwear room?” Janson whispered to Luke, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Remember we want ponchos too. About a dozen. Different colors.”

“Okay!” Rialtan exclaimed happily. “Now, here’s the cape selection. How about this green, does your father like green?”

“It’s beautiful,” Luke said honestly, “but he’s a bit more conservative.”

“Grey?” The man held up a deep grey cape that was lined with red satin, and Wes giggled.

Luke rolled his eyes. “I remember,” he muttered. Yes, the story he’d told about Vader’s formal wear. Janson had almost fallen for it. “No…. How about cream or ivory?”

“Oooh! I have this _fabulous_ one-of-a-kind! It was this season’s runway finale piece.” Rialtan held it up as high as he could and it still puddled slightly on the floor. “It’s awfully long though. It might have to be altered.”

“I think it’s perfect,” Luke said dreamily. Yeah, _fabulous_ was the only word for it. Floor length wool crepe, pure ivory trimmed with cream bands… and the bands twinkled with tiny crystals. “Too bad you don’t have two of them.”

“It would be _amazing_ on you, too! But, wait—” He crossed to another rack of short capes and pulled out a hip-length version that nearly matched.

Luke tried to hold back a squeal but: “ _Yes!_ It’s perfect! They’re both perfect! I’ll take them.” Briefly, he wondered how much the tab was up to, but dismissed the concern. His father could afford anything if the rumors were true. It would be better to pay for his dad’s gift himself, but the miserly allowance the Alliance gave him came from his dad anyway, so…. He turned to Wes.

“Do you want something here for your…whoever?”

Janson shook his head. “No. And you can't buy all this stuff for me.” Though he ran his hands down his tunic with regret.

“I’m not, my dad is.” Luke grinned. “He can afford it. Besides, I haven’t had this much fun in— well, ever!” He turned to the clerk. “We’ll wear these. Pack our old stuff with our purchases.”

He sensed Wes’s rising anxiety when it appeared that Rialtan was going to take a long time to precisely fold and wrap everything. “Is there a snack shop nearby? A good one, not junk. Maybe with vids too.”

“Yes. Toodoodles across the street has absolutely everything in the galaxy. Sweet, sour, crunchy, holos, games, you name it.”

“Great. We’re going over there while you pack.”

“Uh…” Rialtan paused. “Sorry, could you please scan out first? Your total is 180,000 credits.”

 _That’s all?_ Luke thought wildly as Wes groaned. His father would _kill_ him! “One-fifty,” he said, and the clerk’s mouth dropped open.

“I… I really can’t—”

“Big purchase discount. And the balance is a tip for you.” What the hell, his dad could afford to be generous.

 _“Really?_ Are you serious, thirty thousand?! That would almost pay my tuition for the entire year!”

“What are you studying?” Wes asked curiously.

“Engineering physics,” the clerk said proudly. “I only have two years to go. This year I have quantum mechanics, but I’m not too sure about that.”

“Who is?” Janson said with a shrug. Luke looked at him.

“Pack the robe separately, it’s a gift,” he explained. “Do you have a namecard?”

“Sure. I hope you’ll come back sometime.”

“Count on it.” He signed for the one-fifty. “I’ll be back with your tip. Is there an IBC branch around here?”

“Two doors down. I’ll hold your purchases while you finish your business.” Rialtan went back to his folding, happily whistling a popular tune as they left.

“Okay,” Luke said as they walked, “I think we’ve been here long enough. I’ll get the credits for him, then join you for the rest of the stuff.”

“We’re going to be late getting back,” Wes observed, though he kept looking at his reflection in store windows.

“And we haven’t even had lunch!” Luke complained. “Get enough snacks for us to nibble on the way back.”

Good thing he had a sharp organizational mind. He withdrew credits, then returned to help Janson with gifts for the guys. Between their clothes, the ponchos, his dad’s cloak, the food, the games—

“We’ll have a few more crates than we should.” He stared at Wes and they both began to laugh.

“Ask forgiveness, not permission,” Janson reminded him.

One more stop at the boutique. He handed over the cash, and he and Wes fumbled with the packages. He found the wrapped robe and receipt and gave them to Rialtan. “This is yours. You’ve been a great help.”

“I….” The kid actually blinked back tears. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say….”

“Well, don’t return it for the credits,” Luke admonished. “I’ll try to get you some financial help.” He waved away more thanks— not literally, because he had no free hand. “We gotta run. Thanks again!”

“We are going to be _so_ late,” Wes said as they tried to trot without dropping anything. “Why do I listen to you? Why did I agree? Why, why, why?”

Luke laughed. “It’s like when you followed me into the jungle. You try to keep me out of trouble. ‘Sides, you like me.”

“Yeah, I do, damnit.” They slowed as they neared the docking bay. Wes was panting a little.

It seemed like a good moment….

_Hey, Dad, I just spent a shitload of your money._

_How much?_

_A shitload!_

_How much?_

_Well… that’s beside the point. We were helped by a really nice university student who’s studying engineering physics. Maybe you could help him out with his tuition? He might be a good addition to your crew. I’m sending you his name._

There was a silence. Luke counted the unheard breaths. One two three four five.

_Did you already pay his tuition?_

_NO! I just gave him a little tip. But… he could probably use an extra hundred thousand...ish._

One two three four five six seven— 

_Just how much did you spend?_

_I dunno… we went to a few places. But it’s not all for ME!_

Apparently there was no point in counting breaths because his father wasn’t answering.

_Although… what I got looks really great on me._

_You’re cut off._

_That’s fine,_ Luke sent cheerfully. _We’re done shopping. Going back to base now. Talk to you later!_

They rushed into the hangar. Wes stopped. “Where did we leave the ship?”

“What?” Luke almost ran into him. “I don’t know. Didn’t you look at the bay number?”

“Why would I? _You_ were doing the flying! Didn’t you take the ticket?”

“What ticket…. Oh. I forgot about those.”

“They’ve cycled our ship to another level.” Wes dropped the bags and his shoulders slumped. “Now what’re we gonna do?”

“Maybe I can find it with the Force?” He reached out, but had no idea how to even begin to look.

“Narra’s gonna kill us. We’re going to be so late.” Janson recovered the bags and shifted them around. “We’re gonna have to walk through every level.”

“How many—”

“Fourteen,” the pilot said grimly. “Oh, krit,” he added. “CorSec.”

“Where?” Luke turned and was faced with two humans wearing Corellian Security uniforms. “Hi. I forgot where we parked.”

“He forgot the ticket,” Wes clarified.

“It happens all the time.” The woman’s gaze quickly encompassed their fine clothing, and Luke was grateful they’d decided to wear them. “What’s your ship identification?” Her finger hovered expectantly over her wristpad.

“Uh.” Wes looked at him. “I think it’s T-D-something.”

“I thought it was T-E,” Luke said. “And there’s a four in it somewhere.”

“Rich kids,” the security man muttered under his breath.

“Remember the economy,” the woman reminded him.

“Right. We spent a lot of money here,” Luke offered.

Her monitor beeped and she pressed her earpiece. “Drac, we’ve got a priority call. ISB can check the security cameras for you.”

“That’s okay, we’ll find it!” Wes exclaimed. “We don't need to bother them!”

But as the CorSec officers hurried away, an Imperial officer and two stormtroopers approached. “What’s the problem?”

_Dad?_

_Dad?_

_DAD!_

_Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad_

_DAAAAAAD!_

Great. Vader picked a fine time to ignore him. “I forgot to take the garage ticket. And we don’t remember the ship’s ID code. And we’re late getting home and my dad is going to be really mad.”

“Yeah, all that,” Wes added helpfully.

“Let’s see your identification,” the lieutenant said.

“Uh….” Okay, he had his cover ID somewhere in one of his pockets— “Oh! It’s in one of these bags! We bought new clothes and we’re wearing them, so…. Give me a sec!”

The officer looked at Janson. “What he said,” his friend agreed.

He supposed they weren’t undercover operative material if they couldn’t even fly a supply mission without attracting Imperial attention. “Here it is!”

“Ozoner,” the man read, then gestured at Wes. “Your ID, too.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Luke said. “We’re getting married, so he’ll be an Ozoner, too.”

Janson made a strange noise, but began sorting through his bags. “I can’t find my stuff.”

“Well, it must be in with mine.” Luke sat down on the hangar floor and began peeking through the tissue wrappings. Damn. His boots did _not_ go well with the new clothes.

The lieutenant sighed. “Forget it. Just get me the ship ID.”

“I don’t _know!”_ Luke exclaimed. “We were just _shopping!_ It’s not my ship!”

Oops.

“Indeed? To whom does the ship belong?”

Luke stared up at him. “Um… my dad?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

 _Dad Dad Dad! Really!!!! DAAAAD!_ Vader must actually be angry with him. “I’m sure. Well… maybe I could com him?”

“Go right ahead.”

Oh. Luke looked at his wrist com. Sure, his dad had made him memorize his private com number, but…. “I need an earpiece. Please.” The officer didn’t look responsive to his request. “He’s going to yell. And he’s… he’s on a…” He glanced at Janson and mouthed to the officer: _‘ship’._

“What ship would that be?”

 _Oh for—_ Luke scrambled to his feet and waved Wes away. But the pilot folded his arms and didn’t move, looking expectantly at Luke. With a sigh of aggravation, he cupped his hands around his lips and mouthed again to the man: _‘Dev - a - sta - tor’._

“I didn’t get that,” the lieutenant said.

“I didn’t either,” Janson said.

“This isn’t funny,” Luke fumed. “He’s going to be mad. _Everyone_ is going to be mad at us.”

“Us? It was _your_ idea, remember?”

“I haven’t had memory loss!” Luke snapped, then turned to smile sweetly at the officer. “Please? It has to be private, I need an earpiece.”

The man hesitated. Maybe he had finally figured out _‘Dev - a - sta - tor’._ He pulled an earpiece out of his pocket.

Eww. Luke wiped it on the sleeve of his beautiful new tunic, then bravely stuck it in his ear. He pressed the code and listened to the beeps.

His father let him sweat, but eventually answered.

“I presume from your shrieks that you have a problem.”

“Yes! I forgot where we parked the ship and I forgot to take the ticket and my boyfriend can’t find his ID and an ISB lieutenant wants it and we are _so_ late getting home!”

“What boyfriend?”

“I… that’s not the point! He’s just a friend!” He threw an apologetic look toward Janson. “Anyway, they won’t even _look_ for the ship without the identification code and—”

“Do you expect me to know the code of an undoubtedly stolen ship that you are using?”

“No! Will you just—” Luke heaved a deep sigh. “If they’d let us check the security cameras, we could find it.”

“Not without proper identification,” the officer hissed. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Dad, maybe you could ask your boss to call this… Lieutenant…?”

“Kahnon.”

“Lieutenant Kahnon and tell him to let us see the cameras.”

“I doubt that the emperor would be inclined to do such a thing.”

“Not _him_ , I mean— Oh, you know what I mean! Pleeeeease!”

“Very well.”

“And if you could ask him to call… um, our families and let them know that we’re on our way home. They must be getting worried.”

“No.”

“But I’ll be in trouble!”

Two breaths. “Just flutter your eyelashes and smile innocently.” Vader cut off the transmission.

Luke sighed. “Yeah, I was right, he’s mad.” 

They stood there in uncomfortable silence for an endless three minutes before the lieutenant’s com beeped. He snatched the earpiece from Luke and put it in his ear without wiping it. Luke grimaced.

“Yes, it is…. I can do that, Captain Piett…. Yes, sir.”

 _Piett!_ Luke wished he could talk to him.

“Very well. Come along, we’ll review the cameras. Let’s hope,” the lieutenant added, ”that your ship wasn’t stolen.”

No. Just… no. That was beyond the realm of possibility. He and Janson exchanged worried looks. They were both nervous and a little shaky— from lack of lunch, Luke told himself— until the ship appeared on camera on Level 8.

“Do you need help—”

“No, thanks, we can manage!” he called as they clutched their purchases and rushed to the lift.

When the door slid shut safely, Janson asked: “Who is Captain Piett?”

“Let’s just worry about getting back, okay?” _I need time to figure out an answer to that one._ “And what we’re going to say when we get there.”

Because… oh, crap, they were _late_.

“Okay, boyfriend,” Janson said and leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.

Luke blinked. Wait! _What?_ His first lip-kiss in his _entire life_ and that was it? He’d hardly felt a thing!

Life was unfair. He scowled at Wes, but the pilot just hummed under his breath and looked damned pleased with himself.

“Huh,” Luke said.


	4. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually Luke has face disciplinary actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to FFN 74 (only 4 more chapters to post to catch up, then I can FINALLY write Father-Son time together! I’m way too excited... they’re going to have a great time!)  
> And YAY!!!! to having all the story on Ao3!  
> Yes, I’m doing a countdown because I’m SO GLAD updating is almost over!

“You’d better fly,” Luke said uneasily. “I feel sick. I’m shaky.”

“So am I.” Janson settled in the pilot’s seat. “Eat something and change your clothes.” He took a bite off a choconut bar. “And bring me a juice.”

“Yeah, yeah. You have to change too.” He’d rather make a magnificent entrance wearing his new outfit, but he supposed it was wiser to reappear in the fatigues they’d left in.

“I will. Once I’ve messaged Base and got us into hyper. We’d better jump twice to be sure we don’t have a tail.”

“Why would we?” His voice was muffled as he pulled the tunic over his head. Janson didn’t reply so Luke finished redressing, wriggling uncomfortably against the rough fabric of the grey jacket. The ship jerked into hyper and he stumbled but caught himself. “Give a guy a little warning!”

Rejoining Janson at the controls, he said, “Your turn.”

“After the next jump.” Wes looked at him. “Do you understand how much trouble we’re in?”

Luke bit his lip. “Well… we’re late and we, uh, made an extra stop?”

The pilot gave him an eye roll. “We didn’t report in, they may have scrambled fighters to find us, we used an Alliance ship for an unauthorized personal side trip, we attracted the attention of Imperial security—”

“Okay, they’re mad! I get it!” _And my dad is mad at me too. I’m not sure which one I’m more afraid of, Dad or Commander Narra._

 _Don’t be ridiculous, Skywalker._ _Hands down, it’s Narra._

“Even my father is mad.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Good thing his boss Captain Piett _obeyed_ him.” The tone was slightly taunting.

A distraction was in order. “Why did you kiss me?”

Janson snorted, acknowledging the subject change. “A little thanks and a lot of revenge for calling me your boyfriend. ‘Getting married’— really?”

Luke shrugged. “I was playing a part.”

“Fairly well, too, cutie. Out of hyper.” The ship jerked again. They were barely back to feeling normal when Wes finished setting the new coordinates and punched it. “All yours. I’m going to change.”

“Ugh.” In-and-out jumps made him nauseous. Or it was the orange protein bar he was eating? What did they add to healthy snacks that made them taste awful?

“You know, we didn’t really get _that_ many clothes,” he said when the other pilot returned, shrugging on his jacket. “Most of the stuff is for the squad.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure the squad will enjoy that huge cape more than Captain Piett would like seeing your dad wearing it.”

“Will you just let it _go?!”_ He really hoped Janson didn’t look up Piett in the database to find his assignment and learn who else might be on that ship.

Maybe there was more than one ‘Piett’ in the Imperial Navy. A guy could hope.

“Coming out again!” he observed just before they jolted from hyper. “Got the base programmed in.”

“I’ll take it the rest of the way.”

He wasn’t about to argue. They really _were_ in trouble. It was a good thing that he had experience talking himself out of problems. This should be a piece of cake. No big deal. It was just shopping, no choking, no murdering, just shopping.

If only Janson didn’t look so pale and worried. He felt guilty about involving his friend in one of his escapades. “It wasn’t like we _planned_ it,” he reminded. “It was spur of the moment.”

Wes didn’t even look at him.

 **OooOoo**

“You made us late for dinner,” the inventory clerk said as she reviewed the crates. “Where were you? Run into trouble?”

“Uh, yeah.” Luke winced as he saw Commander Narra heading in their direction. “Krit.”

He expected anger or at least annoyance, but the commander’s face was unreadable. “Any problems?”

“Not really,” Luke said.

“Yes,” Wes replied. “We were stopped by Imperial security in Coronet City. Just an ID check because we forgot where we parked.”

Narra stared at him. “Coronet City.” It wasn’t a question.

“That was my fault,” Luke offered. “I forgot to take the ticket. Um… actually, the whole thing was my fault. Wes had nothing to do with it. I just wanted to...um, stop somewhere and get some stuff. For the squad… and me,” he added as an after-thought.

“It’s not all his fault. I went along with it.”

Still he could read nothing from Narra. The man had strong shielding for somebody without the Force. “After dinner, report to my office.”

Luke sighed with relief after their squad leader walked away. “We have to sneak our things to the barracks.”

“We can’t _sneak_ it,” Janson snapped. “And don’t think we’re not in trouble because he didn’t yell at us.”

“He never yells.”

“You know what I mean.” Wes finished initialing the hand-off sheets and the clerk left. “Okay, let’s get this stuff to the barracks before everyone comes back from dinner.”

They picked up a few stares as they struggled with the bags and packages, but soon everything was stowed safely in their rooms. Strangely, most of it seemed to belong to Luke. He pulled his door closed and Janson did the same. They looked at each other.

“Mess hall,” Janson said nervously.

“Why are you so worried? How bad could it be?” He followed the older pilot out.

Wes just shook his head. “We’re screwed.”

 **OooOoo**

“They almost sent us out to look for you,” Zev said as they walked back to the squad. He was the only one who had waited for them to finish eating, and now he was scowling at Janson.

“Don’t be mad at him.” Luke sighed. “It was my idea. My fault. I wanted to take an excursion.”

“Of _course_ it was your fault. Narra knew it, that’s the only reason he decided to wait on a ‘rescue’ attempt.” Zev grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Stop behaving like a child. You’re on a military base, on a military mission for supplies to keep the Alliance running. This isn’t your personal—” His words ran out. He shook his head and released Luke’s arm. “And you sure as hell had no right to involve someone else in your antics. Wes—c’mon.”

He watched them leave. His first thought was to wonder if it had been Zev that Wes had been waiting for in the bar. His second thought was— Well, apparently what he was feeling was shame, and he didn’t like it. He’d made so much progress in the last year. Or thought he had. He didn’t want to ruin things now.

_Dad? I know you’re listening…_

_...I’m sorry. Maybe I can return some of the clothes? But most of it was… well, anyway, I guess I can’t return all of it._

A sudden memory pierced his brain and he gasped. Oh, krit, how had he forgotten?

_Look… I just remembered that you said that other people would be punished for my… transgressions, was that it? But this was all me, my fault, please don’t hurt anyone. Please!_

He imagined that cute clerk being hit by a meteor or a falling outerwear rack or something equally fatal. Or Wes—

_Please please please! Don’t hurt anyone else! You can do what you want to me, but please don’t hurt anyone!_

He hesitated. _I guess you’re not going to speak to me for awhile. But I’ll talk to you sometimes. I’ll try not to be annoying. And… can we talk about your suit? We have to be able to change some of it. You don’t have to be in pain. So… anyway... bye. I love you. Thanks for the clothes. And don’t hurt anybody._

Without noticing, he had finished his Last Walk and was standing at the barracks door. He took a deep breath and went inside. The holo was on and he only received a couple brief glances. Zev didn’t look his way. Janson wasn’t—

“Oz. In here.”

Great. Narra wasn’t going to call him ‘Luke’. He crossed to the office. Wes was already standing at parade rest, facing the commander’s desk. Luke shut the door and stood next to him.

“Lieutenant Janson reviewed the details of your side trip. I’m not going to bother to list your transgressions.”

_Transgressions! Dad!_

“Janson, you’re off the flight roster for six days barring emergencies. You’ll be clerking at the CC.” Narra looked at Wes. “I’m disappointed in your behavior. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Janson didn’t look at Luke as he brushed past and left.

“Oz.” Commander Narra had the same expressionless stare he had earlier. “You’re off the flight roster permanently.”

 _“What?_ No—“ He snapped his mouth closed when Narra raised his hand. 

_What? No flying? No!_

“You were already on shaky ground with me.” The officer kept studying him. “I’ll keep you on the squad as a mechanic as long as you remain one hundred percent reliable. I have a new pilot coming tomorrow, so move your belongings back into your old mech room tonight.”

“But we got—“ _Gifts for the squad,_ he wanted to say, but that probably wouldn’t excuse his shopping trip. His tongue felt numb, and he could hardly speak. “S-sorry, sir.”

_No flying…?_

“The barracks need painting. You may take as much time out of your regular duties as you need from 1200 to 1500 daily to do that. It shouldn’t take more than three days. Do not disturb Night Shift during their recreation time. Pick up the requisitioned paint from Construction today.”

Well, okay, that part didn’t sound so bad. He’d never painted, but he’d sand-washed the old homestead, so painting wasn’t probably much different.

The commander looked down at a piece of flimsi on his desk. “Before you do that, report to General Rieekan. He wants a few words with you.”

It seemed like his entire body deflated. Already? The general just got here and already Luke had screwed up their potential relationship. “Are you coming with me, sir?”

“No. The general has already spoken to me.” Narra didn’t look up, but there was heightened color across his forehead. “Your special privileges are ended. From now on, you face consequences on your own. That’s what adults do. Dismissed.”

Right. So much for _‘standing with every member of my squad’._ Maybe murdering and choking had something to do with Narra’s change of mind.

But really, it was just more confirmation that no one could be totally trusted— not the commander, not his friends. Only his father.

Luke faltered, trying to catch his breath, then nodded. “Yes, sir.” He left, wondering if the general was disappointed in Commander Narra for vouching for Loneozner-Skywalker-Vader. Well, at least when he made a mess, he did it royally… leaving destruction in his wake as usual. It wasn’t fair. They put too much pressure on him to be different.

And now he had three things to remember… see the general, pick up paint, and… and… oh, krit, move out of his room. Fine. Whatever.

 **OooOoo**

General Rieekan made him wait just like his dad did sometimes. Luke fidgeted nervously, zoning out while the general jotted on a pad, then handed it to a young clerk. Luke recognized the man as the one who’d given him sympathy just yesterday. This time the guy rolled his eyes and grimaced as he passed by on his way out. Luke took that as a warning— Rieekan wasn’t pleased. _Yeah, I suspected that…._

“Loneozner.”

 _Really? Really really really Loneozner?_ But he kept his mouth shut except to say, “Sir.”

The general put aside another datapad and looked up at him. “I’m attempting to contact your father to tell him to discontinue his payments to us. You stay here on your own merits or you leave.”

“Okay,” he said miserably. “I can tell him.”

Rieekan nodded. “This is not in reaction to your stunt today. I disapproved of taking the credits when it was first brought up in Council.”

What Council? Did the Alliance actually have some sort of pseudo-government in place? Luke waited.

“I worked with Jedi in the Clone Wars. I did not agree with all of their methods, but they were in charge.” The older man sat back in his chair and studied him. “I understand that I cannot hold you to the same standards as a regular recruit. Instead, I decided to hold you to a higher standard, and you let me down immediately.”

He looked at the floor, blinking back a rush of emotion, wishing desperately that the floor would collapse and swallow him into the ground.

“You seem to have difficulty distinguishing between what is appropriate behavior and what is not.” Rieekan paused, obviously waiting for a response.

Luke tried not to sigh but didn’t quite succeed. He was tired of people waiting while he tried to figure out what they wanted to hear from him. “I guess.”

The general raised one eyebrow.

Sithspit. “Maybe like… good and bad?” Luke offered hesitantly. “Sometimes I can’t tell the difference. It depends on who’s doing what.”

“Give me a specific example.”

Oh. Luke’s mind went blank for a moment, then: “Like the Death Star. It was created to kill people so it was bad. But I— we blew up two million people and that was good. And there are—“ He faltered, uncertain what to say that he hadn’t already said. Why did he have to keep explaining himself? “That affected people all over the galaxy and they cry. Even people here at the base. So many people lost someone. Just like every time a fighter is shot down or—“

He didn’t like talking about this and he was _tired_ of talking about it, how many times did he have to _tell_ people? but he strengthened his voice and raised his head. “Unless I shut off part of me, I can hear them. So I block it. And maybe then other things get shut off too.”

_Like common sense, Son._

_Dad!_ He almost smiled.

“Maybe that’s why I act before I think.” He shrugged. “Oh, hell… I was never very disciplined anyway. I mean, before. I always just did what I wanted. Or what I needed to do.”

Rieekan obviously wasn’t going to tell him to sit down, so he tried to steady himself by clenching his hands behind his back. “I know you hate my father. Everyone does. I get why. But he’s good for _me_ and tries to guide me. He was the best discipliner I ever had, but not for long enough.” Why was he babbling about his dad? Just because Vader was listening?

Actually, that seemed like a pretty good reason. At least this way his father had to pay attention to what he was saying.

“Sit down.”

 _Finally_. His knees had been about to give out. “And I know I do things I shouldn’t— and I _like_ to do them, because— I don’t know why. I’m just trying to find where I should be and what I should do. And Commander Narra says I have good examples here to follow and I try, I really do— and I’ve learned so much, but things just seem to… happen. And sometimes I antagonize people.” _Accidentally and on purpose._ He looked through heavy wet lashes at the general. “You know they thought about killing me.”

_What? What are you talking about? Who?_

_Dad, I handled it. Well… it didn’t happen anyway._

Rieekan didn’t need ‘they’ defined, because he said: “I know. That threat is off the table. You’re not in danger from the Alliance.”

All the breath left him suddenly. He hadn’t known how much that knowledge had affected him. “Thank you.”

_We will discuss this later, young one. Do not think that you can keep secrets from me._

The general leaned his forearms on his desk. “You need to think about what you’ve said here, not forget everything once you walk out this door.”

Yeah, he tended to do that, didn’t he? “I’ll try to remember, sir.” 

“You should also consider talking to the base counselor.”

_An absurd waste of time and an unwarranted invasion of privacy._

He couldn’t disagree with that assessment. _Like I would ever talk to a stranger when I have you, Dad!_ Maybe there was a little sarcasm there, but he figured his father would take it at face value. Maybe.

“No, thanks.”

Was he dismissed? But Rieekan was looking at something on his datapad. In the seconds of silence, it occurred to Luke that the general might have known Anakin Skywalker. Maybe he could ask sometime later. Because this didn’t seem to be the right moment at all.

“Anything more?”

 _Wasn’t pouring out my heart enough?_ But yeah…. “I brought back some cold weather ponchos for Red Squad.”

The general hesitated, his gaze flickering momentarily. “Why did you do that?”

_Dad, go away now. Please? Because I’m just guessing about the future._

Luke shrugged. “Just a feeling. Plus, the other squads were sent away, and they have hot weather gear with them so if anyone is captured or spied on, they’ll think we’re on a miserably hot and humid planet. Like we are.” He smiled a little. “But mostly just a feeling.”

“I see.” Rieekan paused. “Very well, you’re dismissed. I don’t have to tell you to go directly back to your barracks, do I?”

“You just did.” Luke started to grin, then decided maybe that was _inappropriate behavior_. “I mean, yes— I mean, no, sir, you don’t have to— Yes, sir, I’ll go right back. Except I have to pick up paint first. The commander told me to.”

The general gave him an emotionless look. Luke left as quickly as possible and once outside he heaved a huge sigh of relief and wiped the sweat off his face. Maybe on his way back, he should stop to see Kodra and—

 _Directly back, Luke!_ Fine. At least he remembered that part. People always expected him to remember so much and it was so hard.

No, wait! First he had to pick up paint.

Stars, everything was so complicated!

_Dad? Okay, so… I’m sorry. Are you still there?_

_No. Well, I don’t expect an answer, but I’ll just update you once in awhile, okay? So… I’m off the pilot roster permanently and I’m back to being a mechanic. And General Rieekan— oh, you know he’s in charge now, right? Oops. What if you didn’t know before? Krit! Don’t tell anybody. I mean— never mind! Forget what I said._

_Anyway, he says they’re not going to take your money any longer. That I can make it on my own or not. I can! I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Well… not that you’d worry exactly, but…. Thanks for everything and I’m sorry for everything and maybe I can get a good job someday and pay you back and I love you. And don’t hurt anyone!_

The Construction Shop smelled like chemicals. And it was dusty. Wood shavings were on the floor and blowing around in the air. Luke sneezed and rubbed his nose. There were two big containers of light grey with Narra’s name on them along with trays, rollers and different sizes of brushes. He loaded them onto a carrier. Boring color. Depressing. The barracks could use some spiffing up.

“Excuse me!” He had to shout over the sound of saws. No one responded and he saw they were wearing hearing protection in their ears. He went closer and waved his arms.

An older woman turned off her saw and raised her goggles. “Whatcha need, kid?”

 _Kid_. He gave her his sweetest smile. “I’m picking up paint for Commander Narra and I’ve got this—“ he gestured to the pallet “—but I also need a big dark blue and um… a small red and a small white.”

She went to the wall and brought down a clipboard. “Those colors weren’t requisitioned.”

He half-shrugged and winked. “We’re going to buff it up a little. Please?”

Her answering smile wasn’t hidden at all. “Good thing those are stock colors. Over here.” She helped him select the colors and he stacked them. “If you need anything else, let me know, hon.”

“Thank you!” He sent Happy Smile and waved as he left.

He rolled the pallet to Red barracks and began unloading them. The grey paint and the materials were stacked outside his room, but he hid the other colors in his new-old room. Janson’s eyes followed him and he shrugged. Zev frowned. No one else paid any attention to him at all. Which, for a change, was just fine with him.

Now came the difficult part. Moving.

He pulled the hangars down and sat on his old bunk, carefully folding one piece at a time. Dragging his two satchels from under the bed, he began placing things inside. Holding the formal Sithly tabards on his lap, he smoothed them and slumped back against the wall, closing his eyes. It was getting easier to fall into meditation, but he was wary of the Void. But tonight he was so close… his vision was light and….

Sandy. Twin suns high in the sky. Internally he relaxed. Home. Didn’t like it at the time, but now…. He inhaled deeply but it was pointless. There were no smells. Not the sweat scent of himself or spice or Fixer or lurking Jawas or Raiders whose language had no word for ‘bathing’. He remembered that even the sand had odors that had been indescribable, made up of eons of birth and decay, but now there was nothing.

He walked, looking over his shoulder at no footprints. This wasn’t home; it wasn’t the salt flats. Surprising and not surprising. Tatooine was a big planet, and he hadn’t been everywhere. Truthfully, he hadn’t been much of anywhere. Mos Eisley was as far as he’d ever strayed, and that hadn’t been far at all.

Now he crossed the Dune Sea. He was walking but he was flying, and the impossible stretch of rolling sand was an easy journey. There came a town he didn’t know until he saw the stadium. Mos Espa, the site of the Boonta Eve Classic. Once he’d wanted to race there, but that was before he’d discovered spice and drink and ruined his dreams.

He followed the path that led him to the slave quarters and found what he’d been tracking: a dark-haired woman and her blonde son. _Little Ani_ , she called him as she crouched down and smoothed his hair. His _father_ smiled with childlike openness, and Luke wondered— _wanted to know—_ and he wanted to _scream— Don’t let them take you, don’t let the Jedi take you!_ but it was decades too late.

_Stay out of my head._

_Dad? Please please little Anakin please don’t go please don’t—_

He was snapped out, thrust away, memories yanked from him, and he was gasping into the pillow so no one would hear him because they would think he was crazy and maybe he was, they’d say he was hysterical and maybe he was, but it kept running through his head over and over: _Jedi took him and corrupted him, they should have left him alone, happy and innocent, he could’ve had a family, he could’ve, we could’ve—_

_Young one! Meditate on the future, not the past. Let Kodra guide you._

_Not Kodra._ He shook his head. _You. I want_ you _to teach me._

There was barely a pause. _I am not strongly skilled in prescience._

It was rare for the Dark Lord to acknowledge a weakness, and Luke suspected he _would_ not to anyone else. There was a sort of terror growing in the pit of his stomach, understanding that Vader believed his son would not find a way to use the knowledge he shared. They’d talked about it before, using each other, being assets…. But somehow, in the heart people believed he didn’t have, Vader understood that his son would never betray him.

Luke was more worried about that. Wouldn’t he? Was he _certain?_ His breath hitched. What if he accidentally—

_Then you must be more cautious._

_Same song, different words. Everyone tells me that. You must change, Luke, don’t be who you are. Luke, don’t do that, don’t think this._ He felt cold. _If the Jedi hadn’t taken you—_

_Then I would not have you._

Well. 

Okay. _I miss—_

“Need some help?”

He shook his head and didn’t lift his face.

“Are you sure? I can— aww, damnit, Luke.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. “I’m fine. I just… need a minute.” Head down, he grabbed a white linen shirt and began to fold it carefully. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

“Don’t be.” Ignoring his refusal, Janson picked up black trousers and creased them carefully before adding them to the bag. “I went along willingly. And I have to admit it was fun.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He kept seeing his father’s face, chubby-cheeked and flushed with heat and sun. “I won’t have much room. Would you take the stuff for the squad and give it to them whenever feels right?”

“Sure. Look… I’m sorry you got bumped from the roster. That’s harsh.”

He shrugged.

Wes hesitated. “Narra’s out. Take your time moving your stuff. Maybe you can stretch it until Lights Out.”

Luke nodded. Janson left with open reluctance, and the process of folding and packing ended eventually. It took several trips to get his bedding and clothes to the old room. He had space to hang up the work jumpsuit and the grey fatigues and the long jacket that would hide his lightsaber, but he didn’t bother with anything else. The pajamas his dad sent went under the pillow— they made him smile… black and sprinkled with tiny white stars. The pattern reminded him of the night sky that had been so clear on Tatooine, set with so many diamonds of light that the nights were never truly dark. Dying stars— dead stars he knew now, but when he was young, they had been magical and mysterious, full of possible adventures and heroics, monsters and brave fighters. They were the same stars his dad had seen, and he wondered if his father had picked out the pajamas.

The two satchels of clothing fit under the bed, but the big box that held his father’s ivory cloak did not. He put it on top of his sheets, pushed to the foot so he had space to sleep. He pulled out his dad’s datacard out of the reader and slipped into his jacket pocket because there was no way he would take the chance of losing it.

No matter what General Rieekan told him, he had no intention of thinking any more tonight. His brain was dead. He took his pajama bottoms and went to the shower.


	5. A New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because of course he doesn’t listen and of course he never antagonizes anyone, especially not his replacement. But he finally figures out how to release all that excess energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corresponds to FFN 75 (only 3 more chapters to post to catch up, then it’s Father-Son time.)

His Deep Space Sprite shirt— why had he packed that? He could wear it with his pj bottoms. It went straight onto a hanger after he’d smoothed it. And the giant wrap Wes had given him… he put that across his bed like a blanket.

The chime sounded its tiny alarm reminding him to head for his class with Kodra. He slipped out quietly, thinking that this would have been a good time to paint since the guys were sleeping and Night Shift was working. How noisy could painting be? Maybe he’d try it early tomorrow.

Kodra was in the sparring room, reinforcing Luke’s belief that he lived there. Maybe there was a back room with a cot— no, he pictured Kodra lying on a mat on the floor, sleeping soundly in his asceticism. Or sitting with his legs crossed, meditating all night.

“I’m in trouble again,” he announced as he took one of the practice laser swords. “I got bumped off the flight roster.”

“I heard.” The Tabrak waited for him to be ready.

But Luke _wasn’t_ ready. “Can we just talk for awhile? I don’t understand what they expect from me, and there’s no one I can ask because they all think the same.”

Was that a muffled sigh? Kodra flicked off the saber. “They are humans with human limitations. You are not. You must be who you are— _what_ you are.”

“How do I do that? I feel so—- tired and frustrated. I keep doing the same things and saying the same things, and it’s always wrong.”

“Is it?” The lightsaber was reignited. “Do and say what is right for _you…_ when you have learned what that is. You cannot keep your training contained here—” He gestured at the room. “Explore your potential.”

“How? Where? When? I’m always working!”

“You are not.” Kodra whirled the saber to one side. “There is an entire planet at your feet. Use it. Now— release some of that energy. Use the Force.”

“Really?” Well, he didn’t have to be told twice. Luke opened his mind, and the feelings rushed through his body, extending past the practice sword, filling the room until he could almost see it. He felt the Zabrak answer, though his Force strength was much weaker. Luke hesitated.

“Do not worry about hurting me,” Kodra said and swung at his torso.

Luke parried but the other’s weapon still glanced across his forearm, burning like an ember. “If you say so!” and he launched an attack.

 **OooOoo**

The nose of the x-wing was slippery from humidity. Luke clenched his thighs on the edge as he slithered to the nose to check a loose plate. Sure, he could climb up a ladder and do it that way, but this was more fun. He whistled as he whacked down the plate.

“Hey, acrobat boy!” someone called. “If you’re done playing around, I need mech assistance.”

He tilted his head to see who’d spoken. It was a dark-haired stranger. “Where?”

The man gestured to Luke’s old X.

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” Krit. Must be the new Red Squad pilot. His _replacement_. Flying _his_ X.

“Make it snappy, kid,” and the man strode away, long legs crossing the distance very fast.

 _Snappy?_ “I’ll snap you,” he muttered. He wanted to stall but this job was finished, so he slid off the nose and picked up his tool belt, fastening it around his waist. He stalked over and looked up at the man who was— naturally— much taller than him. “This one’s in perfect shape.” He ran his hand possessively along a foil. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that its last pilot must have been a midget. Damn controls are in my face.”

A _midget?_ Luke was seriously offended both for himself and on behalf of short beings everywhere. He pursed his lips. “Actually, he was a troll.”

“A what?”

“Troll.” Luke smiled politely. “Small, green, pointy ears— a troll. Amazing pilot because… well, you know… size matters not.” He let his gaze flicker down, then back up again. “But if you’re having a problem, I can fix things for you. What’s your inseam?”

Lips narrowed and dark brown eyes glared. “You don’t need my damn inseam! Just adjust everything back to normal!”

“Normal, hmm? I’ll try my best.” He kept smiling. “Don’t worry yourself about it. I’ll do the adjustments and check over the entire ship to be certain everything will accommodate a _normal_ -sized human. You just run along and— do whatever pilots do.”

Oh, dear, did he just antagonize someone? So sad. Grinning, he climbed up the ladder to make five minutes’ worth of changes to his perfectly perfect ship.

 **OooOoo**

“So, you getting along all right so far?” Porkins called to the new pilot. “Everybody treating you okay?”

Luke slid in next to Zev and put down his tray. “Are you still mad at me?” he whispered.

“No.” Senesca gave a disgusted sigh. “Sorry I snapped at you for being a kid. I keep forgetting that you _are_ a kid. But don’t get Wes in trouble again.”

“I’ll try.” Luke speared a green veg with his fork. “But I can’t guarantee that he won’t get in trouble on his own.”

“Yeah, fine,” the new guy called back. “Except for some smart-ass mechanic.”

A few heads turned his way. “Ah, you must mean Oz,” Janson said innocently. “There he is. Our squad mech.”

The pilot looked down the table at him and said nothing.

“I’m sorry if I seemed mouthy,” Luke said, politeness personified, “but I was a bit offended when you called the last pilot a troll.”

“I didn’t! You did!”

“Oh, that’s right. I stand corrected. You said the pilot must have been a _midget._ How inappropriate!” There was no immediate reply, so he asked, “What’s your name? You didn’t introduce yourself earlier.”

“Bren Quersey,” the man snapped. “Lieutenant.”

“Oh, a _lieutenant_. Well, you must have a lot of battle experience then.” Luke disregarded the knee that Zev rammed against his thigh. “Evidently not with trolls or midgets, though.”

From the head of the table, Commander Narra sent him a Look. “Oz was its last pilot,” he told Quersey. “He’s off the flight roster right now.”

 _Right now???_ Hah! That meant Narra wasn’t committed to exiling him permanently.

“He’s a damn fine pilot and a terrific mechanic,” Hobbie offered. “Just keep him on your side in a fight. And don’t go shopping with him.”

The comment earned several chuckles, and Quersey inclined his head quizzically toward Luke but wisely said nothing more.

_I’ll be back on the roster one day, I can feel it!_

“Oz.” Narra crooked a finger and beckoned him.

Luke pretended to drop his face onto his plate. Zev yanked him up by the collar. “Now what?” he muttered under his breath, but stood and approached the commander “Yes, sir?”

The officer leaned back and steepled his fingers. “Why are there paint containers in your bunk?”

His eyes widened. “You went into my _room?_ I thought we had privacy!”

“You want privacy, close the door. Answer my question. Those are not colors I authorized.”

“I got the right color too! I just added a few extra. See,” he enthused, “I got dark blue— for just for one wall, like an accent— and I thought I’d make a big red Alliance emblem for the center and then paint little white stars all over.”

“What did I tell you to do?”

Luke shifted on his feet, hearing someone chuckle behind him. “Paint the walls. And I am! I’m just giving the room some personality. Some… pizzazz! It’s like a gift from me to the squad.”

There was not a hint of amusement on Narra’s face or in his voice. “Follow the instructions I gave you.”

The tone was a little scary. “Okay. I’ll… um, return the extra paint? And just paint the entire room with the grey?”

“Are those questions?”

“No, sir.” He sighed dejectedly. It had been such a _good_ idea. “I’ll do that.”

“Good. Don’t make me rethink my decision.”

He knew that didn’t mean the commander’s decision about the paint. Krit, he was just showing _initiative._ Why couldn’t Narra see that his idea was better? It would be— _would have been_ beautiful. “Okay. Yes, sir.”

He trudged back to his seat and picked up his tray. “Really?” Zev murmured. “Watch your step, Luke. You don’t need any more trouble.”

“I know. I have to get back to work now so I can paint this afternoon.”

“And return the contraband colors.”

“Of course.” Why did everybody think he couldn’t remember anything? Kodra was right; they just didn’t understand him. _Fine._ He’d paint the damn place a boring, depressing grey, and if people felt suicidal in it, that wouldn’t be his fault!

 **OooOoo**

The horrible grey paint got all over his work jumpsuit. Good thing he hadn’t worn his own clothes or that might have made _him_ suicidal. Luke decided to skip dinner and strapped on his utility belt after removing the tools and adding a water flask, a couple nutribars, and— just to be safe— a few bacta patches. Because… okay, either he could mope about his problems or he could do what Kodra suggested. Then he headed to the canteen.

“Excuse me, sir.” He cut in line behind Commander Narra. “I’m going for a run and some exercise. I’ll be back before Lights Out.” Like he was a baby and had to report in.

“All right.” The squad leader nodded but behind him, Wes Janson said:

“Do you need company? You might get lost. I can go with you.”

“Then two of us would be lost,” Luke said practically. “And thanks, but no thanks, I need time alone to practice stuff.” Kodra was right about that, too. The sparring room wasn't big enough for everything he wanted to try.

“Well… okay, but watch out for animals.”

“More like the animals need to watch out for _him,”_ Zev corrected.

Luke gave them a wave, then took off. He jogged through the base and broke into a run once he reached the outskirts. The jungle reminded him of Dagobah. Not as messy, but it was just as humid and as overwhelmed with plants and trees. Probably snakes too. But thoughts of discomfort disappeared as he began to enjoy the exertion. There was no one to see, so he was free to leap over fallen trees— even that pond where he had killed the creature. A few times he stumbled because the ground where he landed wasn't as level as it had looked, but it was still...fun! Just plain ordinary fun.

There was a tree that looked like a promising climb. He stripped off his jacket and tied it around his waist. There were no low branches, so he bent his knees and jumped upward, clinging to a limb twenty feet in the air. He swung his legs through his arms and hooked them onto the branch, hanging upside down. It had been so long since he’d been up this high. With a touch of nostalgia, he remembered that in Mos Eisley he could just step off roofs— first story, second story, it didn’t matter. He craned his neck upward and pulled himself onto the next limb. Yeah, definitely climbable. Each branch was narrower than the last, but he was free to use his Force. Maybe he could soar, just fly off from the top.

But when he arrived near the top and realized it was probably over a hundred feet, he decided to try flying from a lower height first. Maybe thirty feet. But now that he’d gone this far….

He finished his ascent to the top, clinging to the trunk that was narrow and wobbly and bare of leaves. If the Force bound everything together, then could he bind with the tree, at least enough so that the branches didn’t break? Or maybe he could walk out onto one of the twigs. Why not?

“I am one with the tree,” he murmured. “The tree is one with me. I am one with the—” Well, that sounded silly and he burst into laughter. Which sent him off balance and tumbling through leaf-covered limbs that snapped under his weight. “KRIT!”

The branches caught and tore his clothing— tore his skin too, sithspit!— but once he’d cleared the bottom limb, twenty feet up, he somersaulted and landed lightly on his feet. Exhilarated, he smiled widely, brushing himself off. Okay, a few scratches, but nothing that required any of those bacta patches. He straightened his twisted jacket and belt and took off again on a dead run.

But he didn’t get far because soon he found a wide clearing and another old pyramid. “Wow.” He walked around it, trailing his hand along the stones, wondering when it had been built. There was a closed doorway and he paused, but sensed no emanations, which was disappointing. It had probably been sealed for thousands of years. Sure, he knew the history about the Massassi slaves who’d built it, but there had been hints in the stories about their Sith masters. Still, concentrate as he might, he sensed nothing.

Except that it would be a great climb!

The rock was mostly solid with flat platforms that were too far apart for a human to manage. But for a Jedi or a Sith, it was a simple feat of leapfrogging. Really, he needed to find a name for what he was. Jedi, Sith...Jesi… Sidi…. Skywalker. Why not just ‘Skywalker’? He was certainly walking the skies now, or at least he felt that way when he reached the pinnacle and stared around. There were trees as far as he could see, a wispy layer of fog lying across them, and in the distance the sky was turning pink. From here, the Great Temple where the hangars were appeared to stretch even higher, and he thought what a great climb that would be. If he could manage to get on it when no one was looking.

But the color-changing sky made him realize that this Skywalker needed to get back to base. It was probably more than an hour before Lights Out, but he didn’t want to worry Wes and Zev. The others wouldn’t notice he was gone unless they needed mech help tomorrow. Narra, on the other hand, would scold him if he was two minutes late.

Pausing for a final look— he could always come back!— he studied his route of descent. This might be more difficult than getting down from the tree. Well… it served no purpose to put it off. He’d take it one ledge at a time. 

But he hesitated. _Hey, Dad!_ he ‘plucked’ their link. _If you’re there, join me and have some fun._

He jumped. 

The first ledge was too narrow and he lost his footing, his toes barely catching on the ledge below, and he flapped his arms like a wild bird to keep his balance. He studied the next few and decided the third one down was the widest, so he went for it.

It _was_ wide, but his foot twisted sideways and he missed. Caught himself on the fourth ledge.

 _I’m pleased to see you are enjoying yourself._ Amusement and approval filtered across their link, and it was a welcome respite from the constant criticism he drew from the Alliance.

 _Hang on!_ There were only two more ledges, so he pushed his body outward and spread his arms, just in case he could fly.

_You cannot fly._

_Now you tell me!_ But it was nearly like flying, and he landed perfectly. Panting, he paused to gulp a mouthful of water, then rehooked the flask on his belt. _Now we’re going for a run._

He headed back in the direction of the base. It was getting dark and he tripped once, but the dimness was manageable.

_Stop._

He skidded to a halt. _What?_

Vader chuckled. _Enhance your night vision. Focus on the ground— a branch, grass, anything— until you see it more clearly._

 _Huh._ He obeyed and stared and concentrated until blades of grass seemed to shine slightly. The entire jungle was lit— not with actual lights, but it glowed a brighter shade of green. _I didn’t know I could do that. Thanks!_

He jumped and grabbed a tree limb with two hands and swung to and fro a few times. _Hey, Dad, you’re not going to kill anyone, right?_

_You will need to be more specific._

Oh, right. _Because of me. It was only shopping, no one deserves to be hurt. Nobody gave me drugs and nobody made me spend money! Your money,_ he added awkwardly. _It was just me misbehavin’._

_Perhaps this time I will take no action. On one condition._

There it was. He dropped to the ground and wiped his palms on his pants. _What?_

_The next time you go shopping…._

Fine, make him beg for it. He supposed he deserved that. _Whatever you say. What? What?_

_I will accompany you._

_What?_ Oh, please! Darth Vader would never— Would he? _Wait… are you saying…? No, you wouldn’t— Would you? That would be…._ Hmm. Great? Awesome? Terrifying to every store clerk?

Silence. Luke tried to think of an appropriate word, but couldn’t come up with one. Then he realized— _Oh, kriffin’ hell! You mean come along in my head! Like now._

_Language._

Language. Luke rolled his eyes. Darth Vader was a fine one to— Although now that he thought about it, he’d never heard his father curse. Well… maybe once or twice. _Sorry. And I’d LOVE for you to come along! As long as you don’t kill anyone. Please!_

A chuckle sounded along their link. _Very well. This time._

 _Thanks!_ Wow, his dad was sure in a good mood. Although maybe that meant he’d killed someone on the Devastator. _Is Captain Piett okay?_

_Son… he’s fine. Now get back to base._

He sensed Vader’s protective presence as he jogged through the night until he reached the Alliance. At the door to his barracks, he knocked the mud off his boots. “I’m back!” he called as he rushed inside, then came to a dead stop.

Bren Quersey was sitting on the sofa…in _his_ spot!

Huh. Well, sure, he could let it go until he showered and changed, but the new guy should find his own place. Now. Teach him the hierarchy right from the beginning.

Quersey was watching the holo. Luke stalked over and stood in front of him, arms folded, blocking his view. “You’re in my space.”

The pilot tried to look around him. “Then move.”

 _“You_ move. That’s my corner.” Behind him, he sensed amusement from the card players. Without looking he knew that some of them turned around to watch.

“Yeah, well, I’m sitting here so it’s my corner now.”

“Sit somewhere else.”

Commander Narra looked up from his relaxed position in a lounge chair.

“Make me,” Quersey said, and a few pilots laughed. Quersey’s eyes flicked toward them, then back to Luke.

Krit! One simple Force suggestion— but damn damn damn, he’d promised not to use it ‘frivolously’ and he supposed this was frivolous. “Arm wrestle you for it.”

Bren laughed, and it was a nice laugh so Luke supposed he might like the guy some day, but not today was not the day. “Kid, I’ve been the arm-wrestling champ everywhere I’ve ever been.”

“You haven’t been _here_ yet.” Luke didn’t move.

“That’s not a good idea,” Porkins advised, struggling to disguise a grin.

Quersey snorted. “Seriously! I could take down this twink with my little finger.”

There was a sudden electric silence. Zev pushed back his chair and stood. “I don’t know where you’ve come from, but _here_ we don’t disrespect each other.”

“Yeah,” came echoes from the others. Narra was watching them closely but not speaking.

“You want to fit in here,” Wes warned in a low voice, “don’t label any of us.”

Luke felt bewildered. What had the guy said that upset the others? Because Quersey said he was a midget? Or did they mean ‘twink’? He wasn’t exactly sure what it meant, but it sounded like a compliment for someone who was sparkly and beautiful like a star. Like him. “Clear the table,” he ordered the guys and walked over and took a seat, left elbow on the table, arm raised. For a half-second he was tempted to use his prosthetic hand, but he didn’t want to break the guy’s fingers.

Because then Quersey wouldn’t be able to fly. Hmmm…. No, he was on probation. Best behavior then.

“He’s little but he’s mighty,” Wedge warned as the new pilot seated himself across the table.

Funny, he seemed to remember that his single fight with Wedge had ended in a draw… but only because people had separated them. And he didn’t think that he’d arm wrestled with anyone before. Guess his muscles had gained him some respect. “Wait.” He rolled up his sleeves to get them out of the way because Quersey looked like he had some muscles too.

“What happened to your arms?” Janson demanded. “Did some animal attack you?” He grabbed Luke’s wrist. “Those are scratches! And burns!”

“Nothing! I fell out of a tree! Sheesh!”

“Trees don’t burn people! Are you fighting with hot sabers again!?”

“Momma Wes,” Hobbie said, taking Janson’s shoulders and steering him away. “Calm down and let the kids play.”

He put his elbow back on the table and flexed his fingers. Bren’s hand curled around his. His palm was sweaty. Gross, but Luke smiled slightly. It was fair enough because his own hand was covered with dirt and this seemed like a good way to wipe it off.

“On the count of three,” Porkins said. “One— two— THREE!”

Quersey was aggressive, throwing his weight into the first couple seconds. Luke let him think he was succeeding in bending Luke’s arm to the side. This was pitifully easy; he didn’t need to use the Force. He winked at the new guy, then tensed his biceps, forearm, and—

Smack. Luke grinned and accepted the hurrahs and whistles from the others. Even the commander laughed.

Quersey rubbed his arm. “Huh. Congratulations, you did okay.” He grimaced sheepishly and added, not totally conceding: “You have to take a shower anyway,” and Luke knew he’d truly won.

“I do,” he acknowledged. “So you may sit in my spot until I come back. Just this once.” Stars, he sounded like his dad! “Then it’s mine.”

Dark eyes flickered again to the other pilots’ open glee at the confrontation. “No problem,” he said.

“You just learned your place here,” Zev called, “and saved yourself a whole new world of hurt.”

Luke went to shower, satisfied with his insanely proper behavior. He hoped Narra was too.


	6. Luke Fights Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is tired of punishment and criticism and has a few things to say to Commander Narra. Meanwhile the new guy loses more points with the squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN 76...almost there...stay on target....

“What in twelve hells are you doing?”

The voice that hissed from the dark startled Luke so much that he knocked off the lid of the paint can and it clattered to the floor. Quickly he picked it up then groaned when he realized that the grey liquid had plastered his hand.

He looked over his shoulder. “Sir? I’m painting.” Surely that was obvious.

Narra was only wearing underpants. Luke looked away.

“Why? It’s after 0300! Why?”

Somebody was cranky. “I thought I’d get it done early,” he whispered, “so I wouldn’t disturb anyone. Sometimes the Night Shift guys stay up late. Or… early. Whichever.”

The commander snatched the lid from him. Luke winced, but decided it was not wise to point out that it was covered with wet paint. “What were your instructions?”

“To paint! And that’s what I’m doing!”

The officer cursed so quietly that Luke couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like a lot of krits and krifs and sithspits and some other things that were much worse. “For—“ Narra paused and took a deep breath. “What hours did I tell you to paint?” he asked slowly, enunciating each word carefully as if Luke was deaf.

“That was a long time ago!” So much had happened since then. “I don’t remember!”

“Of course you remember, it was two days ago. Are you provoking me deliberately?”

“No!” No one understood that he had a lot on his mind. Plus, this boring painting was just stupid. His idea had been so much better. “It was… um...twelve...? To...uh… fourteen... no, fifteen hundred? But since I was awake anyway, I decided to do some now.”

He sat back on his heels and waited, because Narra looked like he was seriously exasperated and trying to control it. “Cover that can and go to bed. We’re going to talk about this tomorrow.” He handed back the lid.

 _Of course we are._ Luke sighed, trying not to look at the baggy underwear as the squad leader stalked back to his room. “Uh… sir?” he called softly.

Narra whirled and glared.

Luke raised one hand and pointed at it, then at the officer’s hand and whispered: “Paint.”

The commander looked down, scowled, and changed direction. Luke decided to wait for a few minutes and not follow him into the ‘fresher to clean his own hands. And, really, there wasn’t much point in going back to bed since he had to be up again in ninety minutes. He stayed on the floor and wiped his hands on a rag, wondering if anyone else was awake.

When Narra emerged, he looked at Luke, then pointed to his bunk. Luke nodded and held up his hands and made a scrubbing motion. The commander’s lips opened and he mouthed, _Then do it!_ and Luke nodded again. He kept wiping off his hands, listening for any movement because he was sure he’d heard—

Janson’s door cracked open and light spilled into the room as Zev stuck his head out. Luke gasped, then covered his hand with his mouth— probably too late, but it was the effort that counted. Zev gestured to him.

Casting a cautious look at Commander Narra’s closed door, Luke wriggled over on his knees. Wes and Zev were on the bed, sitting at opposite ends, and Wes had the blanket over his bent legs, but still Luke wondered…. Never mind.

“What’re you guys doing?” he whispered.

“Get in here and close the door.” Wes grinned. “Talking. It’s the first chance I’ve had to tell Zev about our shopping trip.” He paused. “Why do you have paint on your face?”

“Oh.” Luke looked at his hands. There was still some grey on the right one. He held it out, hoping he hadn’t gotten any on his Dad-given pajamas or purple shirt. Zev rolled his eyes and used Wes’s sheet to wipe off the paint.

“Hey!” But Janson chuckled and patted the space between them. Luke climbed onto the bed, feeling like he was doing something daring, and shivered a little. He wasn’t actually cold, but he didn’t protest when Zev yanked part of the blanket from under him and draped it around Luke.

“I still can’t believe you took off like that. You should be ashamed.” But Zev was grinning like a proud parent, evidently not as angry since Janson’s punishment had been pretty light. “How much did you spend?”

“One-eighty or so,” Luke replied, feeling only a little abashed.

“Well, that’s not too bad.”

“No, no!” Wes whispered, frantically waving both hands. “One hundred eighty THOUSAND in ONE store! And more in another store!”

“What— What in—! Are you _crazy?”_

“And—“ Wes added, “He had to com his dad. Who’s on a SHIP! And his dad had to ask—”

“Really?” Luke demanded. “Are you going to tell _everyone?”_

“Of course not, just Zev.” Janson shifted and leaned forward, arms clasped loosely around his knees. “Have you talked to him since? Is he mad?”

“Yeah, I talked to him. At first I thought he was mad. He did say that he cut me off.” Luke shrugged. “But then he wasn’t really mad, so…. He’s kinda hard to read sometimes.”

Zev shook his head and smiled. “A hundred eighty thousand— he’s either bankrupt or so seriously rich that it means nothing. I didn’t realize Imps were that… well paid. Now you’d better get to your own bunk before Narra tracks you down again.”

“Okay.” He stood and hesitated. Zev didn’t rise with him. “So… are you two…?”

Wes and Zev exchanged glances, then both looked at Luke and shrugged.

“Okay, then.” Of course. As usual there were more questions than answers. Luke grinned. “G’night. Or good morning.”

“Catch a nap.” Janson snuggled down under his blanket while Senesca curled in the corner like a tooka.

Yeah, regular people could be annoying, but they were so _interesting_. Luke settled on his own bed and grabbed a datatape. He didn’t dare fall asleep now or he wouldn’t wake up for hours. Maybe he could sneak in a nap in the afternoon—

No, no, he would be _painting!_ So maybe he could nap instead of eating lunch. So much to do, so little time.

 **OooOoo**

“Why are you late for breakfast?”

Luke stopped and stared at Bren Quersey. _I should drop this tray on your kriffin’ head._ “None of your kr—” He caught Narra’s eye and controlled his temper. “I have two classes before this. Sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat.” He smiled nicely. “I’d be happy to give you a demonstration of either one.”

Porkins chuckled. “You think you lost badly at arm wrestling, Quersey? Try something a little tougher.”

A small snort came from the pilot. “I’m beginning to understand the reason why this squad is the way it is.”

The others seemed willing to ignore him— except Hobbie. “And what way is that, newbie?”

Bren shrugged. “First squad I’ve been in that’s run by the mechanic. A _teenaged_ one at that.”

Luke slid down in his chair. The other men at the table shot covert glances at Commander Narra who, remarkably, said nothing but continued eating. _Yeah, keep digging that hole, new guy. You won’t last long here_. For some reason, that thought didn’t please him.

“Oz is our mascot.” Hobbie toyed with his fork like he was ready to stab the pilot next to him. “We like to keep him happy and well fed.”

“And petted,” Janson’s smile at Bren held a touch of venom.

“And in your—“ Quersey cut off his words too late; his inference was clear.

“Gentlemen,” their commander said, rising from the table, “let's get to work. Quersey, come with me.”

“Hey, wait!” Well, krit! Speaking before thinking again. Luke frowned. Now he had to say _something_. “Maybe we should… go easy on him. It’s tough being the new guy coming into a crew that’s as close as we are. I mean… fitting in was hard for me when I got here.”

Bren paused after he stood, his face flushing a pale pink. He looked at Luke and opened his mouth but nothing came out.

_Wish I had that ‘problem’._

“Aaaaand… this is why we love our little mascot.” Klivian shrugged. “Take us all or take none of us, Quersey. It’s up to you.”

“Stars, you can be so _sweet_ ,” Janson murmured after the commander and pilot left.

 _Yeah, and I can also be so bad like my father. However...._ Luke reconsidered his thought because his dad could be really sweet sometimes. Although the bar for sweetness was pretty low when it came to Darth Vader.

“Oz, will you be finished painting this afternoon?” Narra called from across the room.

“Yes, sir,” he answered wearily.

“Good. We’ll talk then.”

With a dramatic sigh, Luke pretended to drop his face into his plate again, but this time he misjudged the distance. “Sithspit.”

Janson used a napkin to wipe egg off his nose. “Stay and finish your breakfast. You have time. But I have to report to the damn CC.”

“Unless you need us to stay and feed you,” Zev offered, flourishing a spoon at him.

“Just go!” Luke frowned and waved them away in false annoyance, but his gaze followed them as they left the mess. He wondered if his dad had any friends. Well, if not, he’d always have Luke.

 **OooOoo**

“My office,” the commander said as he walked past.

Luke slapped the brush against the wall and it left a blob of grey paint. “No.”

Narra halted. “What did you say?”

“I said no.” He sat back on his heels and painted carefully at the point where the wall met the floor. “I’m tired of your office. I’m tired of being criticized for being myself. I’m just _tired.”_

“Luke—” The commander moved to tower over him.

“No.” He wrenched his legs around and sat cross-legged. “I get up every morning at four-thirty and spend two hours in grueling, exhausting classes. Then I barely have time to shower and change and grab a quick breakfast before I’m on duty for twelve hours with only one meal break, then I come back here and study for the rest of the evening. And what do I get for all this work? Fat nothing! Just reprimanded and punished— okay, so the last time I made a bad decision and deserved it— but I’m always being criticized and scolded for who I am and what I am. And I’m tired of it.”

Narra folded his arms and didn’t speak.

“Everybody thinks they have to control me so I don’t turn out like my father. Krit, the generals wanted to _kill_ me. And now the new general says he held me to a ‘higher standard’ and I failed immediately. So fuck it. Nothing I do will ever be good enough— unless I _do_ turn Darkside and then you all could say _‘told you so’_ and be satisfied.”

He took a deep breath and waited, but still the officer said nothing.

“I blew up the kriffin’ Death Star and did I even get a ‘good job, kid’ or ‘thanks for saving our lives’? No! All I got was ‘shut up and don’t tell anyone because the bad guys will want to kill you’. Well, that’s what I’ve heard all my life! There’s always been someone coming to kill me! First my father, then the Emperor, now the Imperials. And what happens? Instead of getting mad and running around like a Sith chopping people into bits, I go _shopping_ and get hammered for it.”

“There’s a little more—”

“I know, I know!” He slammed down the brush. “Sorry, not sorry that I killed a spy. So what? Maybe I _am_ like my dad— maybe I _should_ be! I’ve been here a kriffin’ _year_ and I’m seventeen and you people treat me like I’m— I’m— I don’t know. A danger to the galaxy or something.”

Well, he supposed he _could_ be a danger to the galaxy, but so what? “My friends only like me because they don’t know my father. They don’t know the _real_ me. I have no one to talk to who can understand. The only person who understands is my dad and…” He ran out of steam suddenly and could only finish: “I want to be with him.”

After a moment, Narra joined him, sitting on the floor. “It’s about time you let out some of those feelings.”

Luke scowled and picked up the brush again. “You gonna tell me how wrong I am?” He swirled paint around the wall.

“No.” The commander sighed. “It's not my place to disagree with anyone’s feelings. And I think that your facts are spot on. But I do disagree with your assessment of my motivations. And Boss’s. We both want what’s good for you— but you’re correct that we don’t know what that is. You’re someone unique, and we don’t have the experience or knowledge to know what to do.”

Sullenly, Luke dipped the brush into the paint can. There was too much paint on the wall now, so he just let it drip.

“Willard and Dodonna were way out of line. That’s why they were transferred. High Command knows you’re special, but they don’t know what to do any more than I do. We try to leash you and you fight us and do what you please. We give you freedom and you do what you please— even things that are dangerous to you or others.”

He dipped his fingers in the paint and decorated his nails, hoping the color would come off his prosthetic. “What about Rieekan?” Then he rubbed his bracelet on a rag just to be certain it wouldn’t stain.

Narra shrugged. “He’s a more reasonable person, but his initial views may have been colored by reports from the other generals— as well as you running off with an important shipment. I’ll speak with him again.” There was a hesitation, then the commander’s voice grew tense. “What about your father? You said you want to be with him.”

“Yeah. I told you that before.” And they thought _he_ didn’t remember important things? “When he gets some time off, I’m going to see him. I really _need_ to be with him.”

“Go when you need to.” The commander rose to his knees and then stood. “Finish painting this last wall, please. I’ll think about what you’ve said. And if you have more to say, tell me. It doesn’t have to be in my office,” Narra added drily.

Luke flashed him a half-smile. “Okay.”

He felt a little better for having spoken up. But he’d made a hell of a mess on the wall and floor. Maybe he could get Wes to help clean it.

 **OooOoo**

They stared at the holo, mesmerized by the gymnastics competition. “Big deal. I can do that stuff, it’s easy,” Luke scoffed.

“So can I,” Porkins bragged. “I can stand on my hands.”

Immediately, attention was diverted to him. “Let’s see you try!”

Jek leaned over and put his fingers under his feet. He almost fell forward off the sofa. 

“You’re pathetic,” Hobbie said. “Here’s how it’s done.” He stood and bent his knees until his hands could slip under his boots.

“You’re pathetic, too,” Bren Quersey said, evidently struggling to be friendly after whatever Narra had said to him. He stood and put his hands on the floor, slowly raising his body up. He wobbled there for a few seconds before tipping over onto his butt.

Polite, scattered applause were given. “C’mon, Oz, show him how it’s done.”

“Sure!” There was little he enjoyed more than showing off his Force skills. Although maybe he didn’t need the Force— he was so strong. He took a deep breath, then pushed off into a backflip, landing on his hands.

Stars, that jolted his right wrist joint where metal met flesh! But he held himself straight up, then simultaneously and slowly, raised his right hand off the floor and moved his left leg to the side for balance.

“Whoa,” someone murmured.

Yeah, he needed the Force for this. He held the pose for several seconds, then replaced his hand and flipped over to land on his feet, earning whistles and applause.

“You really _are_ an acrobat boy,” Quersey acknowledged, then ruined it by adding: “Are you like that in bed, too?”

There were immediate angry responses from the others, and Zev was on his feet in a flash. Luke stepped in front of him and faced Bren.

“In a _bed?_ Sort of conventional, aren’t you?” he said disingenuously.

As he expected, Quersey’s neck flushed red and the color raced up his face. “Uh… oh...I, uh…. So….” He pointed to the purple shirt. “Deep Space Sprite, huh?” Was that mockery in his voice or good-natured teasing?

Luke tilted his head. “You’d better be a really good pilot,” he warned quietly.

“I am. You?”

Luke wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. But not hardly any battle experience. You?”

“I’ve had my share.” Quersey looked pensive and maybe a little sad.

“Hey, there’s a movie on,” Porkins announced, trying to distract them. “It’s called ‘Freeborn’s Revenge’ about a Freeborn who returns to his home planet to quell the Evil Uprising.”

Hmm. That sounded almost too close to his plans for the future.

“What’s a Freeborn?” Porkins frowned.

“Sith, where have you been all your life?” Hobbie sounded exasperated. “It’s the kid of a slave.”

“Former slave,” Luke corrected. “I’m a Freeborn.”

“Really?” Zev looked interested. “So your mother…?”

“No, my dad. And his mom.”

“Huh.” Wedge finally said something; Luke had thought he was asleep. “So your dad was a slave and now he’s some high level Imp who’s filthy rich. Quite an upward jump.”

Luke shrugged. The newbie grunted. “I’m impressed. Especially by the Imperial part. What does he do?”

He tried to remember everything he’d said about his dad in the last year so he could make the new lie fit in with old ones when he was saved by Wedge.

“He’s Sienar Shipyards.”

“He is _not!_ Stop saying that.”

“Kuat?”

”No!”

Wedge smirked. “He won’t tell us.”

“Why not? A lot of us have relatives or friends with the Empire.”

Well, okay, the new guy was behaving better. Still, there was an awkward pause as they waited for an answer. “Because you won’t like what he does,” Luke said honestly, “and then you might not like _me.”_

“We wouldn’t—”

He held up a hand to stop Janson. “And even if you still liked _me,_ I’d know that you didn’t like _him_ and that would hurt. So please stop asking.”

“Fair,” Hobbie decided.

“But lonely for you.” Wes’s brow wrinkled with concern. “What about relatives on your mother’s side?”

“Never met them. Don’t know anything about them.” He projected a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “My dad ‘married up’, my guardians used to say. I suppose they’re too respectable for someone like me.”

“‘Married up’! I didn’t know anyone said that anymore. Why would they care?” Hobbie stretched out his legs. “I mean, your dad’s rich. That should make up for him being a slave.”

“You’re so incredibly tactful, Hobbs,” Janson murmured.

Luke smiled at him, then shrugged. “Well, he has kind of a bad temper. I don’t think they’d like him. I don’t have a problem with him, but they’d be prejudiced against him.”

“He can’t be _that_ bad,” Hobbie exclaimed. “I mean, he lets you spend tons of credits, it’s not like he’s a monster!”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Even if he _was_ a monster, he’d still be _my_ monster!”

Commander Narra choked and spit out his caf.

“Food gone wrong!” Luke chirped brightly. “You okay there, sir?”

“F-fine!” Narra cleared his throat and swiped at the caf stain on his tunic.

Porkins clicked his tongue. “Are we going to watch this movie or not?”

About the last thing he wanted to see. He sent a Significant Look to Janson, who understood immediately. “Hey, Luke got some games for us! Let’s bring out a few.”

“Who’s Luke?” Bren Quersey asked.

“Games! I love games!” Zev said loudly and enthusiastically, even though it was about as far from the truth as anything Luke had ever said.

But yeah… time to see if New Guy could manage a couple games without insulting anyone.


	7. Changes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke receives the invitation he’s been waiting for. And has drama with the New Guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN 77...stay on target...stay on target....

It had been a relatively calm and uneventful (boring) week. With his father’s blessings, Luke had skipped the educational tapes most nights, opting instead to practice his physical skills in the wilds of the Yavin moon. Which was fine for a few nights, but how many times could he climb the pyramid and scale trees? He’d found a small canyon that he could leap across (Forcefully) but the other side was covered with bushes and sticks and mud that got him filthy so once was enough.

He began bringing his lightsaber and practicing what Kodra had taught him, plus some stances and swings he made up himself. He could throw the saber in the air and catch it, still ignited (although the first couple times he had to jump out of its way). Fine, until this evening when he accidentally chopped off a tree limb, which would have been okay except that a huge clump of brown twigs came down with it, and he used the Force to drag it safely aside as the branch fell.

It was a nest. Great. And it was packed with five of the ugliest, pinkest, weirdest little creatures he’d ever seen. Their heads looked black, but on closer inspection, he saw that was their open mouths. Tiny squeaks were issuing nonstop. One of the beautiful birds he’d seen other times swooped down at his head and shrieked. Hard to believe that the Uglies would grow up to be soaring creatures of brilliant blue with extreme tails that were as long as he was tall and that whacked his cheek. (Still, maybe that’s what people had thought about _him._ A useless nobody who had turned out to be… well, interesting.)

A second swooping bird joined the first, this one trimmed with crimson and green in addition to the azure. Obviously they were both going to continue to attack him unless he did something. Of course he could lightsaber them… would that be what his father would do? (Probably.) He looked down at the open mouths and sighed, opening some fasteners on his tunic and tucking the big nest inside. And he climbed.

The bird pair perched uneasily on a neighboring tree, and Luke supposed if he didn’t get this right, they would bite or maybe even poop on him. _Eww…._ He held one hand over his tunic protectively, checking out the upper branches for a place that looked sturdy enough to hold this sticky, gooey, messy glob of wood with its squealing babies. He finally found a place that seemed appropriate where three limbs came together and one branch was long enough for the parents to land. He tucked the nest in the crook, withdrawing his hand cautiously. It stayed.

One giant bird squawked loudly, and he hastily climbed down part way, then jumped. “There you go, they’re safe,” he called (because of course birds understood Basic).

Maybe they did because they both landed on the limb and one dropped things into a few complaining throats. Then that bird flew off, but not before letting go a gift on his head with a triumphant shriek.

So this was his great adventure out of a really dull week. He trotted back to base and ignored Wes who called, “What is that on your head?” and went immediately to the shower where he hoped the white yuck would go directly down the drain and not onto his bare feet.

In front of the mirror, he combed his hair and admired his arm muscles, smiling at his face and practicing a few expressions. (Funny, it wasn’t long ago that he actually had _used_ those expressions for a purpose, but now they were just… his face.)

He turned to leave the ‘fresher just as Bren Quersey walked in. For no real reason, Luke tugged on the knot that held the towel around his waist to be certain it was secure.

Quersey barely looked at him. “Narra wants us gathered in ten minutes.”

“Thanks,” he muttered and left quickly. He still had no idea why the new pilot had a hostile attitude and wondered if some people were just _creepy._ But a lot of people thought his dad was just _evil,_ so it didn’t seem fair to define Bren by his attitude.

Ten minutes later, he was redressed in fatigue pants and his purple shirt. He looked down, feeling happy that the crystals sparkled so much in the dim evening lamplight. (Maybe if he went outside in the daytime, he could make prisms in the sun.)

Night squad joined them. Luke waited to see if Quersey would accuse them of being late for work, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut.

“Changes to the squad,” Commander Narra said with preamble. “We’re taking over Green barracks and recruiting additional pilots.” He held up his hand when Luke opened his mouth. “No questions until I’m finished. My goal is to have enough personnel to switch to nine-hour shifts with at least one day off per week, depending on the number of recruits we can find and how experienced they are. No, there won’t be enough fighters for each of you to have your own. Also, we’re adding another mechanic and another squad leader.”

“So _you_ can have time off too!” Luke exclaimed happily, then added when Narra looked at him: “That wasn’t a question.”

“Some of you will transfer to the formerly Green barracks, volunteers welcome.”

“I’ll go,” Quersey said promptly, and Luke rolled his eyes.

“Green and red make brown,” he offered helpfully. “Brown barracks.”

“Still not finished,” the commander said flatly. “Effective in two days we’ll try the new shift time, 0800 to 1730 for Days with the usual thirty-minute lunch break. Nights are 1130 to 0800. Some of you will have to work overtime to cover the swing shift until we acquire more pilots. Recommendations are welcome. Commander Dreis is working on scheduling with me, so bear with us. Now… questions?”

“Who’s going to be the other squad leader? Boss?” Wedge asked.

“Yes, temporarily, until we find a permanent officer. I’d prefer that none of you apply because we need you as pilots.”

 _You don’t need ME as a pilot, so_ maybe.... (But he kept quiet.)

“Why the change?” Zev folded his arms.

Narra smiled faintly. “It was pointed out to me that you have a _grueling_ schedule and not enough recovery time. Also, it appears that half of you are awake when you should be sleeping, which means you’re still wired and need a later Lights Out. Which—“ he raised his hand when a few people opened their mouths, “—will be 2400 and 1530.”

Porkins straightened from his slouch. “That means we can watch ‘Tales of a Galactic Vampire’ every night!”

“Only if you can sleep afterward,” Wedge pointed out. “Maybe you can watch it on your datapad. In your bunk. With the sound off.”

“Anything else?” the commander questioned.

“Just… thank you!” Luke piped up, and the others nodded and said a few words. “Wow,” he murmured to Janson as the group broke up and Night Shift headed to their work stations, “midnight! How cool is that?”

“What happens to you at midnight, my little galactic vampire?” Wes murmured. “Do you bite someone?”

He opened his mouth to reply when:

 _Luke._ He felt a tug. _Luke._

 _Luke Luke Luke Luke,_ he teased back. _Dad Dad Dad Dad!_ “Excuse me, gotta make a call!” he announced and hurried into his (teeny, tiny, barely visible) room.

_I am yours to command, Dad._

_If only that were so, my disobedient offspring,_ Vader said darkly.

Oh-oh, had he annoyed his father somehow? Other than spending a fortune on clothing? _How are you? Feeling okay?_

His tentative questions were ignored. _Are you ready for a visit?_

 _What? WHAT? Are you SERIOUS?_ He tried to control his immediate reaction. _When when when?_

_You do not need to speak in repetitions._

_I’m just excited!_ If the ceiling were higher, he could jump up and down on his bed. _When?_

_Two days. I will send someone to pick you up._

_TWO DAYS??_ _Who are you sending? No, wait— how long can I stay? Where am I going? To your castle? What should I wear? How many clothes should I pack? I’m bringing my lightsaber! Can you show me how to twirl it? Are you gonna teach me things or can we just visit? Or both? Or— Dad? Are you still there?_

Vader was silent, and Luke quieted his thoughts, waiting. Finally: _Hopefully one week. We shall see. Bring what you wish, but selectively. I will also have clothing there for you. If you have more questions, wait one day to determine if they must truly be asked._

_Okay! I love you! I’m so excited! Talk to you tomorrow then!_

_Only if—_

_Bye!_ He turned down their link before his dad could tell him not to call again tomorrow.

Wow! His heart was racing. Finally! He would be with his dad and see where he lived and—and—

He bounded out of his room. “SIR! Sir sir sir sir sir sir!!!!” He knew he was bouncing on his toes but didn’t care.

The crew looked at him, a few grins breaking out. Janson exclaimed, “Stars! Did you sneak a mega-caf or what?”

He raced the few feet to Commander Narra and bobbed up and down in front of his chair. “Sir! My dad got time off! He got TIME OFF! I can go see him! In TWO DAYS! Okay? Okay okay okay?” He _knew_ it was okay, but he wanted to hear it. “He’s sending someone for me! And we might be able to stay for a week— A WEEK!” He whirled around to the guys. “A WHOLE WEEK!”

Zev and Wedge both began to laugh, and even Hobbie looked amused. Narra couldn’t stop a cautious smile. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Must be nice,” Quersey mumbled, sounding glum.

Luke ignored him. “I’m so EXCITED!”

“You are?” Hobbie asked seriously, and Luke just tsk’d at him.

“Wes, what should I take? What should I wear? He said he has clothes there, but what if they don’t fit? I have to take the cape and— I hope he’s sending a big ship so I can fit everything in.”

Janson stood and gave him a hug. His hair smelled nice. “Where are you going?”

He’d like to just stay in the hug, but Wes let him go. “To… well, his house. Home. Whatever.” _Castle_ , but he couldn’t say that.

“Where is it?”

Oh. Well, Vjun, but he couldn’t really say that either. Maybe Darth Vader’s retreat was a secret. “Uh….”

“Imperial City?” Wedge asked, snooping again.

“No! He has a… a private… place.”

Wes laughed again. “Let’s go through your clothes. And boots, you have to take the right boots for your outfits.”

“Yes! And my purple shirt. And the wrap you gave me. Maybe I should wear my formal black outfit? Or would that be too serious? Oh, I’ve got the new white one— No, maybe not.” He kept chattering as Janson pulled the satchels from under his bed and they began to sort through them.

An hour later, his bunk was piled with clothing. Maybe he could sleep on the sofa. Porkins had the holo on and everyone was watching in numb silence (except for Wedge who sat at the table playing a solitary card game). Luke settled down with Janson and Zev on either side and wondered if he should ask Wes if he could improve upon the quality of that lousy, abbreviated kiss he’d given. But really, did he actually _care?_

Bren Quersey looked at him. “You said the corner was yours and I couldn’t sit there. Why can _he?”_ he demanded with a pointed stare at Zev.

“Geez, take a pill,” Luke said tiredly, suddenly worn out. “It’s _my_ spot and _I_ say who sits there.”

Arms folded. “I can’t wait to get out of here,” Quersey grumbled.

“The rest of us can’t wait for you to leave,” Hobbie said.

“STOOOOP!” Luke shouted. “Let’s not argue! Just watch… whatever this is we’re…. Oh. What’s _that?”_

He knew damn well what it was. Commander Narra had vanished into his office and closed the door, and now someone had turned on the Hutt porn channel. “This is gross.” He’d gotten his eyes full in Mos Eisley, didn’t need to see more.

“Yeah, it is kinda.” Porkins had acquired permanent control of the remote. “Let’s try something else.” He flicked through a few channels. They all seemed to be….

“Yuck. Isn’t there anything else on? Like sports?” Luke suggested. What was on the screen made him uncomfortable, but he wasn’t certain that everyone else felt that way. (If they didn’t, he supposed he could get used to it.) He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his thought.

Porkins pressed a button again, and it turned to a more civilized scene with green fields and waterfalls.

“It looks like Naboo.” Luke smiled.

“Have you been to Naboo?” Zev asked.

“Not in real life.” He felt Janson’s body shake with amusement.

“I’m not even going to ask,” the pilot whispered.

Luke wriggled around to encourage Wes and Zev to cozy up a little more because the air conditioner was set too cold. The holo switched to a castle— maybe like his dad’s— with an elegant stone balcony. Two beautiful women, a Twi’ and a human, both wearing hardly any clothes, were talking to a tall Zabrak male who reminded him of Kodra except his hair wasn’t purple. Their dialogue was a little predictable. (He could’ve written better.)

Until the Twi’ swept her lekku against the man and said something Luke didn’t understand.

“What’s a threesum?” he asked. “Something to eat?”

No one answered. “I’m switching to the Aqualish competitive swimming show,” Porkins announced.

Luke looked at Janson who said: “Hon… it’s a… it’s a… thing that Zev can explain to you.”

“Oh, thanks,” Zev grumbled.

“Oh for Sith’s-sake, it’s a twink sandwich,” Quersey said. “Like you, right now, in the middle of your… buddies. But naked.”

He blinked. It took a second but— oh. Color flooded his face and he bit his lip. He felt dumb. (Well, in his defense, he only knew what he’d seen peeking through windows, and in Mos Eisley there were so many visiting species with so many appendages, sometimes it was hard to tell how many people were—)

“That’s it.” Zev stood and crossed to Quersey, fist curling around his collar and yanking him to his feet. “I’ve had enough of you. We all have. If you can’t behave decently, then get out. We don’t want you here.”

“STOP!” Luke called again. “Don’t fight and ruin my good mood! Just— just— switch to swimming and don’t talk. Zev, please….”

Senesca looked at him, then shoved Quersey back down into the chair. He leaned over and said something in the pilot’s ear before returning to his seat next to Luke. “Sorry, kid. I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Well, maybe we shouldn’t yell at him until he _tells_ us what it is,” Luke said crossly. This was familiar ground; Zev used to get upset with _him_ and all his lies.

“Fine! I’ll tell you. My father murdered a man who butted into a relationship he had with some idiot like you,” Bren Quersey said abruptly, his tone filled with rage. “Young kid, stupid and careless, didn’t give a damn about our family. So a man’s dead, my father’s in prison, my mother left without saying good-bye, and the twink skipped out— happily ever after, leaving behind a trail of wrecked lives.”

Luke felt sick. Not just about Quersey’s story, but because that was what he’d seen when he’d been lost in the Void. A trail of ruined lives in his wake. Maybe the new pilot saw him clearly, saw what he’d done to so many, and that’s why he hated him immediately. He pulled up his knees and hugged them to his chest. He knew Zev worried when he did that, but there was comfort in the position. (Sometimes anything that made him smaller also made him safer.)

“I never forgave my father. Not for any of it. Not for destroying my family, not for murder, not for choosing some reckless slut over us. Some things can never be forgiven.”

He shivered and clutched himself tighter, feeling Janson’s cheek rest briefly on the top of his head. No forgiveness— that’s what the galaxy would say about his dad. “So you don’t think a son should forgive his father for everything?”

“Not for murder. Not for destruction.” Quersey’s gaze held distaste— almost hatred— toward him. “You are so like that kid. There’s something in your soul that’s not human.”

 _Well, yeah… twenty-five percent anyway_. He put his hand on Zev’s arm. “Hear him out. Go on,” he said to Bren.

“Careless… as in the sense of _not caring_.” The man scoffed. “These guys— they’ve been around you too long. You have them fooled. But not me. I can see the corruption and the sickness inside you. The evil.”

It was in his veins… in his blood. Wasn’t it? It was from his father… but his father hadn’t always been evil. _Little Ani_. Luke rested his chin on his knee. “I’m not that kid.” (It was a statement and a hope.)

“Lieutenant Quersey.” Narra was suddenly there, and Luke wondered how much he’d heard and if he truly disagreed with any of it, because Narra knew the truth about him. “You’re sleeping in Green barracks tonight. Gather up your belongings.”

“Good.” Bren stood and looked for a moment like he would stalk over and grab Luke. “I can’t wait to get away from this little shit. He makes me feel _dirty.”_

The room was deathly quiet except for a few moans from the gyrating threesome on the holo. Belatedly Porkins switched it off.

Commander Narra looked at him, and Luke looked down at his hand. He gnawed on his left thumbnail. Wes tightened his grip around his shoulders. Zev cursed.

Luke shrugged. “Well… he’s very… unhappy.”

 _“Unhappy?”_ Zev repeated. “He’s a nasty, disgusting bastard. Commander, if you don’t get rid of him—”

“We’re not having a discussion tonight, Senesca. Luke, if you need anything….”

He nodded in Narra’s direction. “I’m okay,” he said to his friends. “He was just… projecting his pain onto me. It wasn’t about me.”

(Even though some of it _was_ about him, whether Quersey knew it or not.)

“I’m going to see my dad and that’s all that matters,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to let him spoil it.”

“Good for you,” Wes murmured, then added as if talking to himself: “I hope it goes okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” He shouldn’t have snapped, but he was feeling a little touchy right now.

“Oh.” Janson crossed his ankle over his knee. “You know… I mean, you haven’t seen him in so long… and you said you didn’t even know where he lives….”

“Now I will,” Luke replied coldly. “What’s your point?”

“We don’t want you to get hurt,” Zev finished for his friend. “You have a lot of expectations, and some of them may not be filled.”

“You don’t know my dad.” Anyway, if the Dark Lord couldn’t quite give him what he needed, he’d just lower his expectations. His dad loved him as much as he was able. (Which was a lot more than other people could say.)

As he watched Quersey storm out with his bedding in his arms, sheets dragging on the ground, he wondered if he should follow. Was there anything he could say that could possibly help?

“Don’t even think it,” Zev said, and Luke wished that sometimes his thoughts didn’t show on his face.

“Lights out in ten minutes,” the commander reminded.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Wes sounded worried, and Wedge grinned at him. “I’m just _asking!_ His clothes are piled on his bed!”

“I’ll sleep right here.” 

“You could bunk with me,” Janson offered.

Uh....

“Or me,” Porkins said.

“You could sleep on the floor in my room,” Hobbie suggested.

“He’ll be fine out here,” Zev declared. “Just lock the door. And we’ll all be close if you need anything.”

Honestly, like he was ten years old? “Guys, I can take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve slept in worse places.” (Like the tunnel in Mos Eisley.)

The guys, of course, took that to mean something quite different, and he had to endure their suggestions as they began to scatter to settle in for the night. Luke changed into his pajamas and dragged his pillow off the bed, propping himself against the arm of the sofa.

 _Night, Dad,_ he Sent softly, because Vader had only told him to not bother him tomorrow. (And it wasn’t tomorrow yet.)

He fell asleep smiling, thinking about their visit.


	8. On His Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more time on base, then Luke is on his way to Vjun, ferried there by... guess who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN 78...stay on target...stay on...KABOOM!  
> YES, finally caught up with posting. From now on Ao3 and FFN updates will be same day (different chapter numbers, but same content). Thanks for bearing with me! The next volume will be Luke & Vader serious/fluffy/angsty time together. FINALLY!

This was his last morning to get up so early, because tomorrow he’d be leaving. He’d talk to Kodra today, tell him of his upcoming visit and the shift change, and then when he came back….

 _If_ he came back.

His father hadn’t shared any plans. Was this the time they would confront Palpatine? Or was this visit just a visit? He wasn’t sure what he felt about the confrontation, other than fear about what could happen to his father if they failed. For now, he just wanted to be with his dad in whatever way Vader wanted.

It was chilly and damp in the breaking dawn, giving no indication of how miserable the day would be when the sun rose fully. He glanced over at Green/Brown barracks and saw a light. Bren Quersey would be in there alone, probably either angry or regretful.

Luke hesitated. Then, with a disgusted sigh about his own uncertainty, he walked over and tapped on the door before letting himself in. Quersey was sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket just as Luke had been an hour earlier. All the lights were on, even the one in the abandoned bunks, and the holoviewer was flickering without sound.

The lieutenant looked at him and didn’t say a word, but his brooding was like a living thing that hovered over them.

Luke dug his fingers into his pant legs. “I came to apologize.”

Quersey didn’t blink.

He struggled with what to say, then decided that simple was the best. “I was rude to you when we met. I spoke inappropriately. I triggered pain that you didn’t want to remember and couldn’t block, and I guess that made you lash out.”

The brown gaze flicked back to the holoviewer.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said bluntly. “I feel like I ruined things for you— joining the squad, I mean. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, and I hope things will get better while I’m gone. That you can find a way back in. They’re not bad guys. They forgive a lot. So does the commander. And I’m speaking from personal experience.” He drew a breath. “I know I acted like that kid, but I’m not him. I would never do what he did. I have a lot of faults, but I don’t walk away.” _I may lie or hide or deny, but I stick around, right? Except with Yoda._

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I know that I was wrong to treat you that way.”

He turned to leave, but stopped when Quersey said: “You asked for my _inseam.”_

Luke looked over his shoulder and wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. That was a bit much.”

“Yeah.” Bren stared at him. “And you looked me up and down. Like you were evaluating me.”

With a wince, he nodded. ”Sorry. I wasn’t, I was just being… obnoxious.”

“Insulting. Rude.”

“Yeah.” He waited. Whatever words were coming, he deserved them.

Quersey looked back at the viewer, then glanced at him again. “I was a shit, too.”

“Yeah.” It didn’t sound like anything more was coming. Maybe that was Bren’s idea of an apology. “Okay… well, I’ll see you at lunch break, I guess.”

It was a relief to escape into the cool air again— or maybe the relief was from getting the guilt off his chest. Weird, that being sorry could feel good. He needed to teach that to his dad.

_Hey, Dad, I had a… an epiphany! Apologizing is great! You should try it sometime._

Good thing he hadn’t tugged on their string-thing before thinking that thought, because he had an idea that Darth Vader had never issued an apology for anything. Ever. He probably wasn’t even very good at _accepting_ them. At least from other people, because he seemed willing enough to accept endless apologies from his _disobedient son_.

Luke grinned and headed to his favorite classes where he’d be poked and burned and bruised— and it was so much fun! He broke into a run.

 **OooOoo**

“...so that’s what happened.” Luke folded his arms and waited for Narra to scold him.

“Luke, you know what you said wasn’t appropriate, but that doesn’t excuse the things he said.” The commander leaned back against the X’s ladder, one heel resting on the bottom rung. “I’m trying to build a solid squad and he has a disruptive attitude.”

“Oh, c’mon! _I’m_ the one who’s disruptive, we all know that! I’m the one who messes up everything, and I’m the one who did it this time, too.”

“Think first, talk second. How many times have people said that to you?”

“A bunch.” What good was it for people to tell him to think first? If he _could_ think first, he wouldn’t say things that he shouldn’t. If he _could_ think first, it would be simple. But he _couldn’t_ think first, it wasn’t his nature.

Commander Narra pushed himself away from the X. “It doesn’t seem to make much of an impression.”

“I’m a free spirit!” Grinning, Luke executed a little pirouette to demonstrate his spiritedness. “I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t impulsive.”

“Yeah. Well, I hope you have a productive time with your father. Now go check out that Y-wing’s launcher switch that the Gold mech can’t seem to fix.”

“I can fix it!” Yay, a challenge!

But weird, there seemed to be some connection in Narra’s mind between his impulsivity and being with his father. Did Narra actually think that Darth Vader could wring some of that unpredictable joy out of him? Mr. Impulsivity himself? Mr. Look-at-Me-Wrong-and-Meet-My-Lightsaber?

Still, he hoped he wouldn’t annoy his dad like he annoyed the commander sometimes. Really, Narra had been quite restrained with his scolding today, considering that the entire squad had almost come unhinged over his squabble with Quersey. It was good that he was leaving for awhile. Maybe everybody would settle down and get along.

And then he’d be back. Maybe he’d be more mature. A lot could happen in a week.

Apparently a lot could happen in a few hours, too, because Bren Quersey stood up at lunch and apologized to the squad.

“...particularly to Oz. I unloaded everything on him that I didn't get to say to the other kid.” Quersey drew a short breath. “And I wouldn’t have had the guts to apologize today if Oz hadn’t come to me this morning.”

“You _what?”_ Zev scowled at him.

“I had to apologize to him first. I brought it on myself as usual.” He looked longingly at the frosted cake in front of Senesca. “How did you score that? Are you really going to eat it?”

“Yes. Get your own.” Which meant that Zev was seriously annoyed with him, apparently because he did the right thing. Luke frowned at him.

“Have mine.” Wes slid his slice over.

“Thanks! We can share.” He cut off a piece. “Anyway, I was rude, kinda gave him a once-over and asked his inseam length.”

“What is it?” Hobbie asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

Quersey shook his head and sat down. “I’m not telling anybody. But I hope, uh, we can, uh….”

“Forge a new relationship,” Luke offered helpfully. “Mend perimeters. Free the rancor from the pit. Spit the sand out of our mouths. Stuff like that.”

“Maybe we can work on it,” Wedge said cautiously, and Luke figured it would be fine.

Wes ate a bite of the cake and licked frosting off his upper lip. “So, have you decided what you’re going to wear tomorrow?”

“Well, I _can’t_ wear the new white outfit because I don’t have white boots!” Luke waved dramatically.

“No one wears white boots except troopers. You could wear black boots with the white outfit.”

He gave Janson a chastising glance.

“Okay, then wear the black pants and black boots with the white tunic.”

Luke pictured that in his mind. “Perfect! And… oh, I can wear my white cape! Or… no, maybe I should save that for a special occasion.” _Like when I give my dad his matching cape!_

Zev sighed. “What will we do, not hearing about your clothes for an entire week?”

“I can talk about clothes!” Wes offered promptly.

“We can watch the holo channels he doesn’t like,” Porkins suggested.

“I can sit in his corner of the sofa,” Quersey tried.

“I can be the youngster again.” Wedge.

“I can spend time with Janson again.” Hobbie.

“No one will get up at 0430 and _try_ to be quiet.” Porkins.

“We won’t have to share dessert.” Zev.

“It will be peaceful,” the commander added. 

Luke frowned. “You’ll be bored, you know you will!”

“Probably.” Porkins sighed. “So what kind of place does your dad have?”

“I haven’t been there yet, I dunno.” But it was a _castle_. He could picture it in his mind: towering ivory stone, marble floors, parapets, balconies, pennants flying from peaks, blue skies and white clouds, and he’d be the prince in the highest tower.

None of the others looked as happy as he felt. They were frowning or expressionless, and he knew it was because they thought his dad didn’t care about him. That he only gave him money and clothes and never his time. They didn’t know that he was running the galaxy almost single-handedly. They didn’t know how often his dad spoke to him in his head. He wanted to defend his father but, miracle of miracles, he thought before he spoke.

And, having thought, he decided _not_ to speak. They could believe whatever they wanted; _he_ knew the truth.

“Are you nervous?” Janson asked.

“A little.” It sounded like mild criticism of his dad, so he softened it with a smile and a shrug. “It’s been awhile.”

“Luke, can I have a piece of that cake?” Porkins called.

“Who’s Luke?” Bren asked, and Luke realized no one had answered when he’d asked that yesterday.

“Me,” he said as he passed the plate down the table. Porkins would be lucky if there was any left by the time it got to his end. “‘Oz’ is a nickname.”

“So what’s your real name?”

Great. He couldn’t say Luke Skywalker for (a) obvious reasons and (b) he was still officially Laze Loneozner and he _didn’t_ want to say that name ever again if he could help it. He shrugged.

Quersey looked confused. Zev mumbled to him: “You’ll get used to it.”

Luke smiled slightly and wondered if Zev realized what he’d just said. Or had he, ahem, spoken without thinking? _After you’re around for awhile, you’ll get used to it._

That afternoon it was back to work and (hopefully) the end of the last day of longer shifts. But it dragged on forever, and so did the evening. Luke packed and repacked, rethinking his choices over and over, even though he suspected that his father wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t care too much. But he wanted to look his best. His hair could use a trim, but he wasn’t going to trust his beautiful cut to the base barber. He and Wes should’ve stayed longer on Corellia and had a styling. They knew they were going to be late anyway, they should’ve just stayed.

“You ready?”

Luke sat back on his heels. “For now, I guess. I’ll probably change my mind in the morning. About what to wear, I mean.”

Commander Narra glanced back, then stepped inside and closed the door. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Of course I’ll be all right.” He was irked that the squad leader asked him. He’d asked before when Luke had made his aborted attempt to go with his father— until the arrival of the Death Star had intervened and changed everything. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your father has a… reputation.” Narra almost smiled at his own understatement. “And he _did_ slice off your hand.”

“I never said that. _You_ said that.” Luke unrolled a pair of socks and flattened them.

“Was I wrong?”

That entire incident was irrelevant. “It doesn’t matter. It was an accident anyway.” Except that his dad had gotten very, very mad when they were dueling and so had Luke, so he wasn’t sure if it still qualified as an accident. Except that it _did,_ because his dad would never hurt him deliberately. Except for that one choking incident, and that was when they hardly knew each other.

All those thoughts reminded him to pull his lightsaber from under the bed. He would wear it tomorrow so he’d look like a proper Jedi-Sith-Skywalker. “I just need to be a little more _circumspect.”_ Yeah, like that would happen.

“Take your blaster,” Narra reminded him, and Luke sent him an aggravated glare.

“I’m not going to _shoot_ my father!”

“Of course not.” Though the tone didn’t sound convinced. “You never know what trouble you might run into. Because it always seems to find you.”

“Hrmph.” He stood and stretched. “I don’t know who’s picking me up tomorrow or when.”

“About 0900. Captain Jovay.” Narra frowned, obviously not believing that was a good thing.

“Jovay?!” He was excited, and he hoped Jovay wasn’t mad at him. They hadn’t exactly talked since the captain had been spirited away after the Death Star’s destruction, other than Luke ordering clothes.

“We’re clearing Hangar Three, and he won’t be allowed out so you’ll have to meet him there.”

Hangar Three— an unused, isolated space in the secondary structure beyond the Great Pyramid. He supposed he couldn’t expect them to let an Imperial wander into the base, but it would’ve been nice to introduce Jovay to his friends. And have some help carrying his satchels and the big box with his dad’s cape through the jungle.

_Luke._

Sometimes his dad chose the most inopportune moments— still, he’d listen any time the Big Guy wanted to talk. “Excuse me, Commander,” he said, “I have an important call.”

Narra didn’t leave, so Luke closed his eyes. _Hi, Dad!_

_Bring your black cape._

What? He hadn’t planned on that. _I don’t have room!_

One breath, two breaths…. _I do not know what you mean and at any rate, it is irrelevant. You will bring the cape._

_But I have so much other stuff! Clothes!_

_Why are you bringing clothes?_

Well, sure, a guy who only wore one black outfit _would_ say that. He sincerely hoped his dad had more than that single set of clothing. _To wear!_

_I have clothes for you. Wear something and bring one change. That is sufficient. Your quest for material items is irrational and inappropriate._

_Fine!_ Now he had to start thinking all over again. He opened his eyes and realized the commander was still standing in front of him, staring oddly. “Sorry. He can be so _aggravating_ sometimes! He says I should only bring one outfit. Seriously? After buying all this, I can only bring _one_ extra?”

Narra raised his hands like he was surrendering, then reached behind to open the door and back out. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Fine. Fine fine fine. He dropped down on his bunk to think. Okay, purple shirt, pajamas, maybe wear his fatigues but he was determined to bring both new white capes, his and his dad’s. Socks. Underwear. Wear the black wrap boots— just wear the entire Sithly outfit, that would be easier! Bring more boots. And that heavy black cape. And the white outfit.

With a sigh, he dumped out both satchels and started over.

 **OooOoo**

“Jovay!” He didn’t hug his old friend because he didn’t want to drop the box with his dad’s cape. And anyway, they hadn’t really been hug-friends.

“Luke.” Conscious of the Alliance security officers waiting at a distance, the captain still stood military straight at the base of the ramp. If not for his stance, he would have looked like any other smuggler-pilot in his civilian clothing.

“That’s formal.” He followed him into the ship, stowing his bag and box before slapping the latch to raise the ramp. “Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be? Take the copilot seat.”

Luke didn’t answer as he dropped down and fastened in. Okay, it had been almost a year, but he’d expected a warmer reception. “Mm… how’ve you been?”

“Fine.” Jovay requested clearance and moved the ship out of the hangar. “You?”

“Fine.” He craned his neck to get a view of the base as they took off, but couldn’t see much from the direction they’d been assigned. “Still a captain in Security?”

“Yeah. Still a rambunctious kid called Oz?”

 _Rambunctious?_ “I guess.”

The awkward silence held until they broke atmosphere. Jovay glanced at him. “Still listening to those educational tapes?”

“Yes. Not as often, but a few times a week. How’s Tessi?”

The officer seemed surprised by his question. “Doing well. Talking her head off. Wraps my brother and sister-in-law around her little finger.”

Luke smiled slightly. “Good.” The last he’d seen her she’d been dirty and sleepy and curled on the ground until Jovay had scooped her up and carried her inside. He wondered how the rest of his Mos Eisley kids were doing. “How long is our trip?”

“Hours. Too many. I have some music tapes if you want to listen to them.”

Well, that was one way to ignore someone. “Thanks. How’s my dad been?”

Jovay shook his head. “I haven’t seen him. _You’re_ the one who talks to him, right?”

“Yes.” Evidently the security officer was in full security mode. “Thanks for getting the clothes and stuff I wanted.”

“You’re welcome.”

Luke frowned. “I guess I’ll power down now.”

Lips twitched slightly. “I’ll activate your ‘on’ switch when we arrive.”

This time he heaved a huge sigh. “Fine! I’ll shut up if that’s what you want!”

Jovay didn’t hide his smile but he didn’t disagree either, so Luke took the offered player and plugged it into his ears.

Most of the music was unfamiliar. He had no idea if it was popular now or a hundred years ago when Jovay was young. Maybe he wouldn’t ask. At any rate, it helped pass the time, even when the songs ended and he just pretended to listen while he stared into monotonous space. Plus, he was able to avoid any serious thinking. He’d save that for when he was with his dad.

It seemed like a long time before Jovay poked him to attention. “We’re almost there.”

“What’s it like? Have you been here before?”

“No,” said He-of-Few-Words.

“I hope it’s a nice place. Maybe we can do some hiking. Or fishing— I’ve heard people talk about fishing. It sounds weird. Hey, is that it?”

“Yes, that’s Vjun, and we need clearance to get through the shield. _Shields_ ,” Jovay corrected himself.

“What’re the shields for?” Luke leaned forward as if that would help him see through the heavy clouds. There was a glow around the planet that wasn’t explained only by the atmosphere. “I can hardly see the planet.”

“Well….” The captain punched in a few codes, then made a verbal identification. “A shield to protect from attacks, of course, and a second shield closer to the surface to protect the base from acid rain.”

“What? What base? This is— Isn’t this my dad’s home?” _His castle?_ And what the hell— acid _rain?_

“It is, and it’s also his military base. I’m sure he’ll explain the details. Buckle in.”

“Okay.” Luke subsided as they flew through a bumpy expanse. As they closed in, rain pelted the ship and he wondered if the acid would burn its way into the cabin and eat them. Barely noticeable pits appeared on the front screen, but then they were through the rain and evidently through the protective shield because there was a landing platform.

With stormtroopers lining it.

“What’re _they_ doing here?” he asked crossly.

“I told you it’s also a base. Probably the 501st and other troops loyal to your father.”

 _Probably?_ Okay, but still. He didn’t like stormtroopers and didn’t want them around. “Why is it so dark here? Where’s the sun? Is it night?”

“All those educational tapes and none mentioned Vjun?” Jovay didn’t sound any friendlier. He didn’t exactly sound _unfriendly_ , just… polite.

“No. Are you staying for awhile?”

He felt the captain’s eyes focus on his face. “No. Your father will be here. You’ll be fine.”

“Sure. I always am.” But all he saw were rows of white armor-clad troopers and no sign of a big black figure among them.

They landed. Jovay flicked a switch to open the ramp. Luke didn’t move.

“Are you getting off here, kid, or are you riding to the end of the line?”

He smiled a little. “I’m waiting for my dad.”

Jovay chuckled, warming a bit. “He’s probably inside.”

 _“Probably?”_ He folded his arms. _Dad? I’m here._

_I know. Commander Aouli is waiting to escort you._

_I don’t want to be escorted. Can you come here? Pleeeease? I don’t like stormtroopers._

_You must get used to them._ There was a definite edge in his father’s tone. _Don’t be childish and get off that ship. Captain Jovay has other assignments._

Well, crap. “He’s such a jerk,” he muttered to Jovay as he retrieved his satchels and the cape box. “But thanks for bringing me here. Let’s do lunch sometime.”

The captain finally cracked a full grin. “I’d forgotten how much sarcasm becomes you. Take care, Luke.”

He managed a small smile in return and marched off the shuttle, pretending he didn’t notice the troops. But he didn’t know where to go, so he stopped.

“Sir, welcome to Bast Castle. I’m Commander Aouli. I will take you to Lord Vader.”

Luke stared at the white nothing that was half-a-head taller than him. “Please remove your helmet, Commander.”

The trooper didn’t move. Luke didn’t blink. After a moment, the officer reached up and pulled the bucket off his head and Luke studied him. Late thirties maybe, wiry ginger curls, very pale skin, light eyes that were guarded but clear of guile. He didn’t look like someone who felt guilty about molesting a boy six years earlier.

“Have you ever been stationed on Tatooine, Commander?”

“No, sir.”

Okay. He wasn’t lying. “Thank you. We can go now.”

The man didn’t offer to help with his burdens, which was, Luke supposed, because he was a soldier and not a servant. He stared up and up at the dark tower that stretched into a dark sky that was shrouded with dark clouds. He could almost see the shield, the place where the dark rain smashed and bounced off. Then he looked down over the edge of the platform and saw a rugged, uninviting (dark) surface that was full of spikey things. Why did people never put railings around drop-offs like this? It definitely wouldn’t be a good spot to practice his leaping and racing around.

“Is it night here?”

“Mid-evening, sir.”

He followed the man through a set of huge doors that opened when the officer entered a code. “Does it get light in the daytime?”

“Yes. When the rain isn’t too heavy.”

This was _so_ not what he had pictured. He was in a cavernous room that stretched up at least three floors and it was… dark. So dark. He supposed his father could see just fine in the dark— Oh. Luke remembered his lesson and tried to focus his vision. It helped a little. But it was still dark.

“I’ll leave you here, sir.”

 _Sure, just dump me anywhere._ And indeed, the trooper left him here alone. He put down his satchels and box and looked around. There wasn’t much to see because everything was DARK. Well, there was a big window at the far end, but it was so dark outside, it was pointless checking it right now. He decided that his father had some sort of obsession with dark.

There were no footsteps, no voice, only the sudden sound of his father’s respirator. Luke turned and stared, squinting into the depth of the gloom. He could barely make out the form, but he could definitely see one arm reaching out.

That was all the invitation he needed.

“Dad!” he shouted and raced across the space to throw himself into his father’s arms. Well, _arm_. Vader caught him and Luke was positively absolutely nearly almost sure that was an answering hug he got.

“I am SO glad to see you!” He buried his face as best he could against the hardness of the pauldron, and his father—

His father actually _chuckled_.

Okay. This was going to be a good visit then. Luke’s smile nearly split his face as he looked up to find the father behind the mask.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Truth is 8 parts More Gay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152588) by [sorayume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorayume/pseuds/sorayume)




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